


Spöksonat: A Sonata Of Ghosts

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Repugnant (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Copia, Awkward Flirting, Baking, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Feels, Floor Sex, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Neighbors, Occult, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plotty, Post-Break Up, Romance, Satanic elements, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smoking, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Death, Weekly Updates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: When Helena Langager moved to the small town of Svavel to put the brakes on and let go of the ghosts of her past, she didn’t know her beautiful new house would come with a handsome, albeit socially awkward, neighbor. Everything seems perfect, until the town’s occult quirks and the history of her house begin to look like something more sinister, and her dream of a quieter life could turn into a nightmare.
Relationships: Aether | Quintessence Ghoul/Dewdrop | Fire Ghoul, Air Ghoulette/Multi Ghoul | Swiss Army Ghoul, Cardinal Copia/Original Female Character(s), Papa Emeritus III/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to finally be getting this fic out! It's all finished, so updates will be scheduled every Friday.  
> This is an AU where the band isn't a Satanic Church and Copia isn't involved in their music. Here are the alternate (human) ghoul names: 
> 
> Aether - Arthur  
> Dewdrop - Devon  
> Rain - Ryan  
> Swiss - Silas  
> Special - Tobbe  
> Cirrus - Sara  
> Cumulus - Camilla  
> Mountain - Monty  
> Cowbell - Bell/Ben

"Svavel, eh?" Seco Emeritus’ deep voice rang out through the busy Stockholm pub, his laughter booming. He was a very reserved man in daily life, but put a couple drinks into him, and he got just as loud as his younger brother. “You know Svavel means brimstone, don’t you?” 

“Fitting,” Helena giggled. The blonde took a long sip of her drink, determined to party like it was the last night of her life. It was, in a way. Her life as she knew it in Stockholm was ending tomorrow. 

"Why would you want to live in a place so cut off from the rest of the world?" Terzo Emeritus, Seco's more flamboyant younger brother, complained.

"It's peaceful there," Helena told him, "And far, far away from all of you!"

"You will miss us, piccolina,” Seco grinned at her. “You know you will.” 

"Quite the other way around, I'm sure," Primo Emeritus said, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. He was the eldest of the brothers, the most soft spoken. Primo quieted the others, nudging Helena softly to reiterate his point. "We will miss you."

The pub table jostled as lively bodies squeezed by, good nature in the air. Empty glasses and a full ash-tray filled the surface of it, threatening to tip.

"I'm flattered, gentlemen, I am," the vivacious blonde teased her friends, licking the rim of her margarita with the flare of a porn star. "But you won't be rid of me that easy. I'll come back for regular visits."

"You had better!" Terzo said, waving the burning cigarette he had stolen from the middle brother between his fingers wildly, and Seco nodded.

"You can expect visits from us as well. Isn't that right, Terzo?”

"Oh, I don't know," the younger man feigned, leaning back out of the range of Seco’s burning glare. "Svavel is so far off in the bush, I don't know if I can stand the weed whacking I’d have to do to drag myself out there. Think of my fine leather shoes! Ah, and to saddle up with a ride, airfare, suitcases, and... oh, this close to my wedding..." 

“It is a two hour car ride,” Primo deadpanned.

“Ah! How kind of you to volunteer to drive, fratello!” Terzo smirked his way.

“No, no,” Seco shook his head, setting his beer down firmly. “I will never get into another car with him driving. Not since he fell asleep at the wheel.”

“It was once,” Primo grumbled.

“You’re a danger to yourself and others, and you don’t even know it,” Seco pointed to him with a growl, and pounded a passionate fist down. “No. I will drive, si, that is that.”

“Before you all set your travel plans in motion, let me move into the damn place first,” Helena said. With a burdened scoff, Terzo crushed his cigarette, grabbed Seco’s pack when he wasn’t looking, and lit up another one.

“I still say you are too far away.”

"What a terrible burden I've placed on you, Terzo," Helena laughed.

"What a burden it'll be when we visit and you force us to do all your laundry for you," Seco retorted, and Helena lifted her drink.

"I'll drink to that!"

The three men heartily clinked their glasses with Helena's, and they all drank until Silas (Swiss as they sometimes called him, owner of the pub and another close friend of theirs) let them know they were closing and to get the fuck out. He had been Helena’s former boss when she worked here as a bartender, one of the most fun people she’d ever worked with.

Primo approached Helena as they got ready to leave, tucking her under the arm of his oversized white sweater.

"Terzo is just being… Terzo. We will be out to visit, truly. Right after his wedding. But you must promise now to keep in touch. I need to know my dove is doing alright," the older man muttered, lifting his eyebrows in concern. She smiled, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Don't worry, Prim. I will."

"And if you're ever back in town, you know we will give you the spare bedroom, yes?"

"Yes. I'll be very lucky," Helena replied, giving him a peck on his cheek. “Keep me updated on those new Venus flytraps you planted, okay?”

The four had been tight knit friends since Terzo and Helena had begun dating quite a few years ago. She had attended a concert of his, having been a fan of their family’s band of nepotistic frontmen, and he had noticed her standing in the first row, staring at him as if he was her world. Never one to resist flattery, he had invited her backstage, and when they got to talking, he had fallen for more than just her looks. Nowadays, even though they were no longer an item, the friendship still lasted between Helena and the Emeritus brothers, with how often she had spent time with them before, beyond any memory of her fandom,.

Ira, the daughter of Terzo’s tour manager, had him ensnared in a web now, and though Helena hadn’t thought it would last between those two, they had been living together for nearly five years now, so long it was basically common-law. They planned to make it official in August. Helena felt terrible about moving right before the wedding, but some small part of her was relieved. She didn’t know how she would react being there, seeing another woman in the place she had pictured herself in for so many years.

The four got up, taking care of the bill, saying a quick goodbye to Swiss, and heading out.

"Going to miss our lovely lady, are you?" Seco asked, clapping Primo on the back. "Yes, you and every other eligible single in this town." He chuckled.

"You two should compare notes, _jiggolo har meggido_ ," Primo retorted to his brother, and the other three howled with laughter at the usually stoic man's comeback.

As Seco and Primo got to bickering that somehow led back to more argument about driving, Terzo pulled Helena aside into private. His hand braced him against the wall, and with a smile, Helena could tell by the pink that tinged his ears that he was tipsy. That was fine. They were all tipsy, and Terzo was always a mellow drunk. His hair fell forward into his face, covering up the prominent laugh lines around his eyes. "I very much am going to miss you, you know."

Helena stared back at the man she had spent more nights with than she had with herself, it seemed. She still found herself questioning where he stood in terms of feelings for her, which was frustrating. He was an affectionate person by nature, significantly more so than his brothers, so one never could tell if he was coming onto them or simply being friendly. It was a miracle anyway that the two could still remain this close of friends after all the falling outs and tries at a relationship they had had. Now that Terzo had decided to finally settle down with Ira, Helena supposed it was a blessing in disguise. At least he was taken, and with him, the temptation.

"I know," she whispered back, "Take care of each other for me, alright? Lord knows you’ll all drive off a cliff without me to steer you back home safe. And good luck with Ira, you." Giving Terzo’s hand a squeeze, she turned away from his troubled face and waved as she made her way home. 

_Tomorrow, it won't be my home anymore,_ she thought to herself as she clutched her bag tighter to her person. She didn’t have anything tying her here. Her parents had moved them here when she was a young teenager, and after they had died when she had barely turned 20, an apartment in the same area seemed like the logical thing to do for someone as young as she was with no real direction. But it wasn’t what she wanted. She had been out for a few years to live off season in Italy with Terzo in his other place there, but had never travelled much beyond here and there. Not anywhere she wanted to be, that is. Not anywhere she wanted to end up.

She stared around at the trees, whisking her golden hair back in a ponytail. It was coming to a point in her life where she was finally taking charge. She was going to do what she wanted, take a different approach to life. All the best twists and turns came along when people did that, right?

Taking charge, in this case, meant moving to the sleepy little town of Svavel, into a quaint house by Lake Kista. It was truly beautiful, and she almost hadn’t been able to leave the lovely area when she had been shown the place. Now, she couldn't wait to get there, and stay for good. 

-0-0-0-

"I love it here," Helena said aloud, trailing her hand up the rich oak of the banister. The style of the house was gothic, with charming paintings and a scent reminiscent of winter pine. That got her thinking of the holidays. She smiled wistfully. _It would be even prettier when it snowed._

"’S nice, eh?” one mover asked her.

“Mm.”

“Här borta fröken?” (Right over here, miss?) the other one asked, holding an old monstrance clock, and she nodded, turning.

"Ja. That's perfect there, by the mantle. Tack." 

She gazed up the stairs, and thought back to what the agent had told her about the place. The location, how close she was to town, how great it was during the summer months to be so close to the lake. Doing some further research into the history of the house, Helena found that the past wasn't as cheerful as its lovely garden and paint job proclaimed to the outside world.

Bloody Mary was some old ghost story about a woman who appeared in your mirror if you said her name three times. Helena knew that much from grade school. There were different versions of the story, like her clawing your eyes out, or trapping you in the mirror in her place. All Helena knew was it was a miracle that the bitch didn’t sue the tabloids for use of her name, because this was nothing like that.

The Bloody Mary murders, was what her house had become synonymous with. Her house had been owned by a family with a mother, father, 16 year old daughter, and 23 year old foster son. The foster son by the name of Mary Goore (a name he had given himself apparently, yet no public record displayed any other birth name) had a history of violence and jumping from foster family to family. He finally settled, and stayed with this one from when he was a teen to his early adulthood, a bit old to stick around a foster family, but they had obviously been getting on fair enough. One night, no premeditation and for no apparent reason, Mary got up and butchered the entire family, going on to do unmentionable things to their corpses. The sister, playing dead, had bludgeoned him in the head before she too succumbed to her wounds. Helena didn't know all too much about the whole bloody ordeal—she didn’t care to read that far— only that there had been quite a mess left behind. Feeling along the paint, she shivered, wondering idly how many sheets of wallpaper it took them to cover the blood.

"Sorry—ursäkta, which bedroom do you want this in?" another guy asked. Helena clutched her chest as she remembered there were others in the house.

"Oh, um... yeah, just in there. Thank you so much." Biting her lip, she surveyed the view from the hallway window. The lake was so still right now, and she felt an urge to take a picture and send it to Terzo with a little caption, just like the last time she sent him that photo of...

Something in her stopped that course of action.

 _Your time_ _with Terzo is in the past. You're starting fresh, remember?_

She found her thoughts begin to argue with themselves. _Yes, but he's still a close friend._

_A close friend who can text you whenever he wants. Just not today. Today is for you._

Helena smiled to herself, moving the lacy curtain over a little. Maybe there were neighbors she could meet. Yes, that would take her mind off of _that_.

Tugging on a comfortable sweater she had pulled from one of the open boxes, Helena pulled up her jeans a little and walked out the front door. It was a blustery day. She took a look around. By the lake, there were houses dotting the way, each one with a distinctive look. Some were white, some brown, but each possessed the same cozy feel that Helena's house did. She would get along fine here.

She heard a curse, and turned to see someone at the cherry tree bending down to pick up a basket of cherries they had just dropped.

"Do you need some help with that?" she asked, rushing to the slightly man’s aid. He looked up, startled, and Helena was taken aback by his eyes. Striking green. He seemed to stare at her for a second before finally answering.

"Oh... eh, I would not want you to ruin your clothes," he said with a thick Italian accent, swallowing his embarrassment. "This cherry juice can be absolutely horrid to get out of clothing. Believe me I've tried, and it is not a pretty picture." Helena found herself grinning at the man's warning, noting how good he looked in this evening light. He must have been in his early forties, closer in age gap to her last relationship. He wasn't traditionally handsome, not built like Seco or debonair like Terzo… but Helena felt herself drawn to the curve of his jaw line, his prominently upturned nose, his kind eyes and his twitching mustache, as well as the tousled wisps of light brown hair that connected with sideburns. She realized she had been staring for as long as he had.

"These are old jeans, anyway. Adding a little color to them won't hurt." She knelt down and began to help put the cherries back into the basket. The man knelt back down as well, blushing at the close contact. He was as confident a man as any in his day to day life, but when it came to women... he was particularly vulnerable.

After a moment, he broke the silence. "I feel I should introduce myself. I'm Angelo Copia. I live over there, in that house." Helena glanced over where he was pointing, and her eyes brightened.

"Well, so it happens Angelo, that I’m your neighbor," she said, reaching a hand out to him. "Helena Langager."

"Helena," he repeated with a smile, "A Danish name?”

“Right.”

“Welcome to Svavel. And, may I request you call me Copia? It was a name I gave myself, I prefer it to my ancestral one."

“Copia.” She nodded with a smile. A blush spreading again over his freckled face. “How does it feel living in the devil house?”

“What?”

“Your address. 666?”

“Oh. Ah, yes. That is funny.” His eyes shifted over to the houses. "It is fine. No… devil to speak of. You live in number 664 then, yes?"

"Yeah. 664 Helvete Street. My address. Still getting used to the move, and the fact that that is, in fact, _my_ address!" She huffed a laugh, and Copia nodded, eyes quickly darting away from the house in question.

"I can imagine. I wouldn't know though, I've lived here for years. In the same old place I'm in now, actually. It was a grand place in its day, or so I've heard. The Ministry, it was called, home to a young priest and an old priest. Sounding a bit like the Exorcist, but…"

"Oh," Helena grinned, standing up and rubbing her hands on her jeans. "This town is so rich in religious history, it’s fascinating! There's a painting of Crucifixion and the Last Judgment in my house, the previous owners must have left it."

Copia's eyes lit up. "You know that painting by name?" Helena nodded.

"My college art history elective was quite a few years ago, but I’ve always been interested in that."

"I'm actually something of an art history buff myself," Copia said, endearingly passionate about it all. "Literature, too! In my spare time, I do one of two things: read dusty old books like Dracula, or spend hours gazing at the many paintings I have adorning my walls." He smiled a little, almost wistfully. "Like I said, I have been here a while, and that's all you really can do in a place like this."

Helena hummed. "Any dirty secrets about the town you have for me? Any scandalous stories of the townspeople? Every little place like this seems to have a few." Copia once again directed his attention back to her house, and after a pause, looked down.

"Ours is a relatively boring little town, cara," he told her, shrugging. "I am not certain you'll find much excitement here, I'm afraid." Helena narrowed her eyes at her new neighbor. He was hiding something. Or perhaps he was just being a gentleman, staying out of the town gossip and all that. She could respect that.

"Well, great!" Helena said, nudging him, "I came here for a nice and quiet place to live, and it looks like I've found it."

"May I ask why you're looking for a quiet lifestyle?" Copia asked, meeting her eyes. "I don't mean to pry or make assumptions or anything, but not many people our age seem to seek out such tranquil surroundings. I am not as young as I used to be, but it is mostly the very elderly that move here. Sometimes even I feel out of place… like I have to seek out the fountain of youth or something to escape the geriatrics of the newcomers.” 

Helena laughed. "Yeah, my friends all thought I was crazy. I don't know. I've always loved the idea of moving out to a place like this, owning my own pub."

"Oh, was it you who bought the old restaurant?" Copia asked intently.

"Yes, have you been by to see the new sign?" Helena asked. Copia looked down and fidgeted, a curious habit Helena had picked up on. He shook his head.

"I only heard it through the grapevine, as the expression goes. I don't get out to town much. I can't—what I mean to say is, I am a little bit, eh… socially awkward, as you may have guessed."

"I think you're charming." Copia blushed deeply, and Helena granted him release from the question by returning to the subject. "I used to be a bartender in Stockholm, so I have a little experience in the business. Once I get the place up and running, I'll treat you to a beer for being the first to make me feel welcome," she proposed, squeezing his hand. Copia stuttered at the contact, his blush returning, but quickly noticed the half sleeve of tattoos on her upper left arm. His eyes froze on one symbol in particular: a grucifix she had gotten back in the days of loving a band before she knew where that love would lead.

His question came out like a breath. “Where did you get this?”

“Arrow Tattoo, downtown Stockholm. It’s the symbol for a band that’s close to my heart. Closer to it than most people’s, but that’s a story for a rainy day.” Copia looked very curious, but nodded.

“Ah. A band?”

“Yeah.” Helena smiled at him. "Hey, I’ve got some unpacking to do, but I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you."

Copia watched after her, managing an awkward wave. Just as she was about to walk away, he spoke up again. "If you need some help settling in, or... or directions around town, don't hesitate to knock, eh?!" he called. "The houses around here are known to harbor rats and such, and if you also ever needed some help clearing them out, or… anything… just... just let me know. I keep a lot of them as pets you see, and I will… well, I can take them off your hands while ensuring no harm comes to them… ah, I will shut up now.” Helena giggled, and Copia watched her walk away.

She was absolutely beautiful. Nothing like what he had seen of any of the other women in this town. She was just a bit different—a vibrant soul, friendly. The way her jeans hugged her hips, the way that purple sweater hung loosely around her curvy frame under the tumbles of golden curls... she _seemed_ different. Was it the different he had been waiting for?

It didn’t matter. It was unlikely she would return his attraction to her. Copia turned back to his cherry picking. She probably moved here with her boyfriend, or husband, or girlfriend, or some kind of person who was not someone like Copia.

_It wasn't like he had a chance anyway. Not when—_

Cutting off the thought, he gathered his things. The sun was going down, and if he was going to work on a cherry pie tonight, he had better get to it. He had no one around to help him with it.

Helena let herself back into the house, listening to the crickets begin to chirp. No cars whizzing by or sirens wailing in the middle of the night to disturb the calm of the surroundings. Though it would be hard to adjust to the dead silence, she would soon get used to it and appreciate it. She took some time at the sink, washing the red cherry stains off her hands. She walked up the stairs, and collected the service number the movers had left her when they packed up to go before she took a little tour of the rooms once more. They all looked much different in the dark, and with a thrill, she compared herself to a gothic heroin, sweeping down creaky old halls in an unbuttoned nightgown. She had thought once or twice about modernizing it, but immediately following ideas like those, she reminded herself the old style charm was one of the reasons she had been drawn to the place.

Peering into one of the rooms, the thick darkness swallowing her as she took a few steps in, that old story crept back into her mind. She found herself wondering which room Mary Goore had stayed in when he lived here, what walls he stared at before gathering up the initiative to murder a whole family.

Shaking her head, Helena flicked on the lamp in the room, and watched the light illuminate every dark corner. She wouldn't scare herself out of this one. No matter how the grotesque past, she was here to stay.

Helena had had the forethought that the first night in a new place would be hard, so it was good that the movers had had the chance to set up the TV. As she flicked through the channels, she realized there weren't many stations in Svavel. Didn’t matter. Falling asleep to white noise tucked under a thick wool blanket would help ease her inevitable homesickness.

That night, she dreamt of unbuttoned nightgowns, green eyes, and candlelight threatening to flicker out. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Helena woke up curled up on the couch. Rousing, she wiped the drool from the side of her mouth and realized with a start that it was ten thirty in the morning; upon rising however, she remembered where she was. She didn't have to be anywhere just yet. Relaxing back on the couch, she looked outside. It was an overcast day, with sun trying its best to banish the drizzle and shine through the clouds. She deemed it a perfect day to explore the town a little.

Running up to the boxes on the second floor, she frowned, trying to remember which one she had packed her comfy bra in. As she went to head up higher and check, she heard a soft creaking right above her head on the third and top floor master bedroom.

Helena looked up, listening to the wood shift. Had she locked the front door last night? The seed of apprehension had been planted. It suddenly hit her how careless she had been. Anyone could have hidden away in here after the movers had gone, and now that she was a young woman living by herself in a big house in the middle of virtually no where, she needed to be smarter. Mulling it over, she came to the conclusion that there couldn't be anything too dangerous up there. The creak hadn't been loud, so whatever was up there wasn't heavy, if anything was up there at all. _Didn't Copia next door say something about rats?_ That thought comforted Helena a little, and the fact that her amiable neighbor had said it himself helped; but she still brought the fireplace poker with her as she crept upstairs.

The stairs to the third floor were a dark oak, narrower than the other two sets, and Helena made it up to the top after a few seconds. Holding the poker to her side, she peered into the room in question... to find the box marked _'panties and sleepstuff.'_ Letting out a breath, she dropped the poker and opened the box. She must have brought this up here yesterday to her would-be bedroom before hitting the couch, or perhaps the movers had taken some initiative and done it. Regardless, there was no one but her in the room, no bodies in rocking chairs, which left her to conclude the sound had either been a rat or the expanding of old wood.

Just as she was turning to go back downstairs and change, she felt a cool breeze on the back of her neck, and turned to notice the window in the far corner had been opened. Helena looked around, and walked back over to inspect the fluttering curtains. Probably something else she did last night. She was told by someone, likely Primo, that keeping at least one window open in a big house was a good idea for fresh air. She must have deduced with all the good sense she carried that the one on the top floor would be the safest bet for that. Despite her apprehension, she was put at ease yet again as she realized the size of this window was much too small for a person to fit through anyway.

Turning away and hurrying down the stairs, she laughed at her nerves. Nobody was about to break into this old place; not if they were smart. All she had of value was the diamond earrings Terzo had gifted her on an anniversary and a couple of rusty old gold-plated book ends.

But intruders wouldn’t know that.

_Rrrt. Shh. No. Shutting down scared, helpless and alone part of brain for today._

Pulling on her coat, she locked the door and gazed up at her house with a smile. It sure was the best thing she had ever invested in, ever since she had modified her favourite Barbie dream home to look like a haunted mansion when she was 7.

The walk to town wasn't long. It only took her about a ten minute stroll down a path through a small forest to get to the bustling town square (or as bustling as Svavel could get.) There were quaint little shops selling items such as handmade soaps with flowers in them, a beautiful gothic dress shop, and some newer ones like a jeweler’s and a few fast food places. Helena walked past a sushi restaurant and a sandwich place, thinking to herself how out of place and new they looked. But her hunger for continuity won out, so she forewent Ye Olde Meat Shoppe to grab something tried and true.

Entering Hell’s Deli, she could tell the owner seemed intrigued by a new face, if not a little wary. “Hej. Hvad kan jeg få for dig?”

She smiled warmly at the skinny man behind the counter. "Hello," she smiled, talking over the death metal over the restaurant’s speakers, "Hope you don’t mind English. I’m Danish, but I embarrass myself with Swedish.” The man gave a slight nod. “I'm Helena Langager, I just moved here. I'm the one who bought the old tavern a few doors over." The man blinked at her. She had to have at least three inches on him, and he was small enough to seem like a middle-schooler, if not for the definition in his exposed forearms. His hair, dirty blonde and tied back in a ponytail, could easily have reached halfway down his t-shirt clad back. What he lacked in height though, she could already tell he made up for in attitude. He made no bones about looking her up and down, as if marveling at her audacity of approaching him. "Helena. Why the A?”

“What?”

“Why is there an “a” on the end of your name?”

“I... changed my Danish name from Helene to Helena. People kept calling me _Heleen_ or _Helenay_. I got fed up.”

“Why not just make it a simple Helen, without the whole other syllable?”

“Helen makes me sound like a bitch,” she responded.

“Are you a bitch?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you a bitch?”

She scoffed. “Are _you_?”

The curious little man tilted his chin up, studied her, then immediately barreled into his next question. “Which house did you move into? I wasn't aware our town had any vacancies." Helena frowned a little. _Vacancies? What, was Svavel a motel?_ She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, well, it did. I live in 664 Helvete Street." Helena watched the man's face closely, how his features froze and soured from indignant to loathing when he heard the address.

"Oh. Well, that's great. The take-out menu is there on the counter." Helena eyed the menu.

"I was actually hoping to dine in. It looks like there's a storm brewing, and the umbrella’s still in a box in the attic somewhere." The man looked less than pleased at her insistence to stay, and Helena wondered what she had done wrong. He shrugged and turned heel, leaving Helena to decide what she wanted.

The menu was hell-themed as well, each sandwich named after something biblical. _Another place that’s obsessed with the Antichrist,_ Helena thought. It seemed a little ridiculous. She lived on “Hell” Street essentially, and now here was a sandwich shop celebrating the fall of Lucifer? Helena herself was an Atheist, but she supposed she could appreciate a little anti-Christian novelty, when it fit so well with her own gothic lifestyle. 

She opted for a mozzarella panini and rigatoni with a chocolate milkshake, or the "Dark Lord’s Hunger,” then sat down at the table. The place was deserted. It wasn’t hard to see why with the owner's stand-offish attitude. After her food had been served with a cold-shouldered clatter, Helena ate a piece thoughtfully. The food was good at least, so no harm done.

Her phone buzzed. The blonde’s heart skipped a beat, but she relaxed as she realized it was just an email from Seco. He had cc'd everybody with all of the photos he had taken from Terzo’s wedding. _That's right. It had been last night, hadn't it?_ Helena smiled as she flicked through the photos. Seco himself looked dapper as usual in a tux with a white satin tie and sunglasses, and Primo was dressed his best in a well tailored suit and red scarf. Helena noticed everyone else present. Silas had come with his girlfriend, Sara, a curvaceous keyboard player with big hair and an infectious laugh. The band’s Swedish PR manager and family friend Tobbe Speciell, or ‘Special’, as he hated to be called, was there wearing an Abba shirt under his tux. Even Nihil Emeritus had been in attendance, with his trusty oxygen tank. He looked positively high on life, probably overjoyed at not only his son’s marriage at long last, but the fact that he had been let out of the damned hospital for the day.

Helena smiled to herself, then squinted at the bridal shots. So that was Ira, a pale girl with long dark hair. She appeared to have the same goth inclinations that Helena had herself, eye makeup black as her lips. Terzo did have a type, at the end of the day. Helena tried to fight the bitterness down as she flipped through the pictures in succession of Terzo lifting her black veil, staring down in adoration at her upturned lips. He looked utterly bewitched, and it made Helena’s heart ache. He used to look at her like that. Exiting out of the email, she sighed. It was a big turnout, and Helena felt that tug of guilt again that she had missed it. If anything, it would have been nice to get together with old friends.

Stirring her from her disappointment, someone sat down.

The beefy man across from her stared intently. He wore a black shirt with black suspenders, on top of even blacker pants. His hair was buzzed down and he had a stubbly goatee, with a single hoop earring in one ear. She was worried he was going to kick her out or something, claiming they were closing early or some other grand excuse. Instead he reached out, putting a hand on hers. It wasn't a creepy gesture at all—just one of comfort, and she took it that way.

"I just wanted to say… I'm terribly sorry about my husband’s behavior, love.” Helena watched him talk curiously. He must be that angry little man’s husband, then. “He can be a prickly little demon sometimes.” He lowered his voice. “Actually, all the time.” Helena nodded slowly. The man went on. “You must understand that in a town like this one, there are certain superstitions, and… after the tragedy, your house tends to carry somewhat of a," he made searching hand gestures, "—Stigma, I suppose?" Helena hummed.

“Reasonable, with its history.”

“Rather ridiculous I'd say. After all these years, people still bothering themselves with what some kid did."

"Mary Goore cannibalized his foster family and got his jollies from their disemboweled corpses. I think that’s worthy of talk for at least another hundred years."

The guy looked slightly flustered, but nodded. "Yes, well. I suppose that’s a bit much for even our Satanic little village. Anyway, Devon’s just being his gremlin self. Nothing personal love, he’s just someone who needs to warm up to you. Not that he’s not already fiery enough, the bugger. But you understand, yeah?”

"Of course. I'm sure we can all relate to bad days, one way or another."

"Mm. So. Number 664?" he asked, voice gentle. “I overheard.” Helena nodded, studying his eyes. They were a kind indigo blue, almost purple in the light, with friendly laugh lines around them. She decided to trust him as someone to open up to in a town where she felt more alone than she ever had.

"I just wanted to get away from the city, you know?" The man nodded.

“I hear that. Out of the rat race!”

The mention of rats got Helena thinking about Copia, a welcome break of fuzzy feelings from the melancholy. She smiled. "Yeah. My neighbor, Mr. Copia, gave me the run down on the town."

"Mr. Copia?"

"Yep. Angelo’s his name, he lives next door in the house of the beast." At the man opposite her’s blank look, she explained the joke for the second time. “He lives in 666.” The man just nodded again curiously, obviously in the dark as to who she was talking about. Helena smiled, remembering how Copia had told her that he didn't get out much.

"Well, I should be going. It was nice meeting you, Mr..."

"Oh! I’m Arthur Locus. Lads back in boarding school used to call me Aether, cause I take up so much space with these, eh—Dev calls ‘em ‘guns’,” to prove his point, he flexed with a silly face, and Helena chuckled. “--So if you don’t fancy bothering yourself with my full name if we get cozy, I go by Aeth." Helena's eyebrows raised in interest as she shook his hand.

“This place is interesting, Aeth.” She looked around at all the seemingly-authentic occult symbols on the wall. “Are you a Satanist?”

"Ehh, not so much. I’m into all that hokey devil worship spooking as much as the next one, but I don’t put much stock into it. Dev is a Satanist, though. The atheistic branch of the religion, if that makes sense.” He lowered his voice again. “If you ask me, he likes to say he is ‘cause he’s a little metalhead shit, but that’s neither here nor there…”

“So he doesn’t believe that Lucifer was a real guy, but he believes in doing your own thing and the power of independent thought?” Helena filled in.

“Right!” Arthur leaned in, looking proud. “To be honest love, I’m always hesitant to mention that, but it appears you’ve actually picked up a book and read about it a little.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, this town’s a great place for that. Very accepting, given its history of once housing a Satanic chapel somewhere off in the yada yadas around here, or such and such. Best decision of my life moving here from Liverpool, let me tell you. Marrying Dev—we’re godparents, you know, to a sweet little baby boy of my sister’s. Being a godparent is lovely, it’s like being the cool uncles. Anywho, opening this restaurant too was a huge thing for us. This business was all somewhat of a passion project of ours, as I assume your tavern is, yeah?"

"Yeah.” She gave him a genuine smile. He was much more pleasant than his partner had been, but with Arthur’s explanation, the other one obviously took some getting used to. "Well, I should really get going." The blonde gathered her things and packed up the rest of her pasta with a wish of happy unpacking from the co-owner.

As she had predicted, it had begun to rain, but she didn't mind putting her hood up-- she had forgotten to brush her hair anyway. Wandering around town some more, she walked by her tavern. She was supposed to begin working on it tomorrow so it could open by the end of the week, and she was beyond excited. Helena had always dreamed of owning her own bar, just as her eccentric neighbor had guessed.

Returning to the house in the late afternoon, the rain had paused for a little while, and the man in question was taking advantage of the reasonable weather to tend to his garden. When she saw him, bent over a patch of black flowers, her stomach was set aflutter. He bent further over, and she got a lovely view of the impossibly tight pants hugging his legs, and what she could so obviously make out between them…

"Hey!” she called, clearing her throat. Copia immediately stood ramrod straight up, and brought a hand to the small of his back as he twisted around.

“Helena!” He glanced down, narrowing his eyes. “Were you staring at my butt?” She raised an eyebrow, and he put up both hands. “I jest, I jest. Aheh. I am not funny, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” she grinned. “As a matter of fact, I was.” It was his turn to be stunned silent, and she used the opportunity to thrust forward a container. “I brought you some of my take-out. Hope you like rigatoni!” Copia’s eyes widened at the gesture, and he placed a hand over his heart.

"Oh! Thank you so much…” He patted his stomach. “You know the way to my heart.”

“I ate some of it,” she grinned. “But there’s a good amount left.”

“If I am not careful, I am not going to fit into my pants come spring,” he fretted. “I am already developing a, eh… a muffin top, as it has so lovingly been called before.”

Helena shrugged, flashing a winning smile. “Gives you something to grab onto.” At the implication, both parties turned away, blushing. Copia stuttered, looking down at the package in his hands.

“I-- I'd invite you in for dinner and whip up a little amuse bouche to go with this, but I'm afraid I've only got the bare minimum in the refrigerator right now."

"No need," Helena said, waving a hand. "Keep it for you. I'm working on unpacking all my things anyway, so I don't have much time on my hands. Instant noodles are my best friend at the moment!"

"Ah, yes. Remember my offer! If you ever need some help with unpacking, you let me know."

"I'll probably take you up on that at some point," Helena said, and waved, going back to her place.

“Okey dokey!” he called, and cringed at the expression. Helena fought back a laugh, and waved again.

At least most of the furniture had been unpacked by the movers. She just had to fill the closet and put out all the little things she had brought. Taking a box of silverware down, she worked on the decision of what to set out first. She'd stock the kitchen, then move on to tackle the bedrooms. She had to set up the guest bedrooms, which she had a whopping four of, and then she'd set up her own room on the third floor so she could have a proper sleep in a proper bed. 

About ten minutes to midnight, Helena was onto her last guest bedroom on the second floor. She settled on a blue comforter for this one. It looked kind of ugly amongst the gothic study-like room, but this was the smallest guest room anyway, so it didn't really matter.

 _"Well I was born an original sinner, I was born from original sin_ ," she sang softly along to the Eurythmics song she had playing on a portable speaker as she folded the comforter hospital style, tight and neat. Dancing over to the other side of the bed, she froze as she heard a noise downstairs. Checking the time on her phone, she pressed pause on the song and looked out the open door of the room she was in. 

"Nobody could be knocking at the door at this time," she muttered to herself, the sound of her voice oddly out of place in the new silence of the atmosphere. Then it hit her—maybe it was Copia! Would he really be awake this time of night?

She stole a glance out the window to his house, where a single light was on in one of his top floor rooms. Creeping down the stairs, she finally made it to the first floor. Looking down and adjusting her boobs just in case, she opened the large door. "No one," she whispered, looking out at the dark yard. She took a few steps out, folded her arms and tucked her hands into her sleeves as she looked back up to see Copia’s shadow walk across the lit room, and douse the light. Crickets chirped around her, and she shivered in the night air. Maybe it wasn't a knock at all that she had heard, then.

Turning around and closing the door with her back, Helena checked around the entryway. Taking a few steps inside, she saw that she had left the fire burning in the fireplace. That’s it—the fire must have crackled. Good thing she had noticed, before setting fire to this and every other house in the radius. _At least I live beside a lake,_ she thought to herself with a snort. Out of the corner of her eye as she put out the fire, she saw that the cutlery drawer had been opened. Her unease returned. 

Helena frowned as she closed the fireplace gate. She knew she had closed that... or, maybe she hadn't. God, she had been so busy, maybe she hadn't even noticed. Going in and making sure all of her utensils were still there, she sighed. Nothing was missing, and the Michael Myers knife she kept around not to chop tomatoes but to chase killers out of her house was left untouched. She took up the huge knife, watching it glint under the kitchen lights as she thought back to the time Terzo had implanted that fear into her head.

_“See that?” he had pointed to the TV screen, the 1978 Halloween playing before them. “That knife business is what happens if you do not lock your doors at night.”_

_“I thought you said I didn’t need to lock the doors, cause you were here and you’d… how did you put it? Kick the ever loving shit out of a bastard who tried to break in. Now you’re just contradicting yourself, babe.” Terzo had huffed._

_“I am sure I told you to lock the doors, and if anyone were to somehow brazenly evade those, I would be at the ready to defend your life.”_

_“With what?” Helena had smirked. “The kazoo you keep under your pillow at night? You gonna toot toot the fucker off our porch?”_

That statement had sent him growling, and they had devolved from cuddling to Terzo tickling her with no mercy until they both fell to the floor, movie forgotten and hands occupied with better activities. Helena cut that memory short, and got herself a glass of water. She was beginning to get a headache.

So what the hell had she heard? Rubbing her shoulders, she turned suddenly.

_Were those footsteps outside?_

Her phone buzzed loudly against the counter, and Helena screamed, slapping a hand over her mouth. After a second frozen up against her refrigerator, she let out a sharp puff of air. Coming to her senses and realizing what it had been, she started laughing hysterically, sliding down to sit on the floor. Holding her head in her hands, she recovered from her giggle fit and checked the offending text message. It was a private message.

Terzo ** _:_** _How are you surviving out there?_

Helena's smile faltered. After hovering over the message for what felt like forever, she typed out a long text back to Terzo. 

_Hey! I'm great, better than ever. How are you guys doing? Miss you all._

There. Non-personalized. Friendly.

She didn't hit send.

-0-0-0-

The next morning, Helena headed over to Copia's. Maybe he’d know more about strange noises and what kind of wildlife in the area might make them. Today she had on a pair of black jeans with the finicky top button, the ones Seco so amusingly referred to as her 'open for business' pants. That was _totally_ not why she was wearing them over to Copia's… but she hoped he was wearing his tight pants again.

Knocking with the large brass door knockers oddly depicting goat heads (another great town novelty), she passed the time waiting for him to open up by looking around. She had never really gotten a good look from afar at his place, but from what she saw, his gothic three-story was in worse shape than Helena's own place was, despite the obviously once-beautiful architecture. The state the house was in gave her some hope that he was single.

She waited a little bit longer, and peered over to the windows. All of them had their crimson curtains drawn, and she saw no light on inside. Maybe he had gone out after all. Shoving her disappointment down, she took a bite of the bagel she was finishing, and walked back over to her place to get ready for her first day of preparation in town. 

As she was walking, she thought she saw something floating in the lake. It looked like plastic wrap of some sort, but thicker. She decided to go check out what it was. Maybe she was weird, but if it was trash, she’d try to dispose of it herself. The lake was beautiful, and didn’t deserve to be filled up with any litter, much less someone’s ugly shower curtain.

Making her way down, she passed by some white rabbits dashing into the bushes on her way to the little dock, and saw what she had guessed it was: a plastic sheet floating just out of reach. She leaned out to grab it, lying down on her stomach to get to it, and finally pulled the thing over using a reed. It reminded her of a translucent bag. What was this stuff called again? A chill ran through her as she remembered. _Cerecloth_. Waxed cloth you used to wrap dead bodies in.

As she pulled the material toward her anyway, she squinted at something that had been beneath it. There was something buried at the bottom of the lake, something deep under the settled dirt. Leaning forward, she tried to make out through the ripples what it was. It was white and graying, stained with green algae... perhaps a ball of some sort? It was round, and had hollow spots, like holes. She was leaning even closer when she caught a reflection behind her in the lake, of someone with blood dripping down their face. Gasping, she almost fell in, before she felt a hand grasp her shoulder tightly.

"Helena!"

She turned to find Copia, _not_ covered in blood, but wearing a flattering shade of red instead. She caught her breath and got up with his assistance, brushing her clothes off.

"What were you doing?" Copia asked worriedly. "You would've fallen in if--!"

"I just... I just thought I saw some—something down there," Helena swallowed, accepting his arm as he helped her up the steps to the main path. Following beside her, Copia cleared his throat.

"Well. I’m glad you’re alright. I eh, heard you knocking at the door earlier, but I'm afraid I was indisposed--" Helena looked over at him with a raised eyebrow, and Copia held up a finger. "Nothing naughty. It was just a shower.” At her insistent brow, he quirked an eyebrow right back. “I have not had a partner in years, if it was slightly longer for _reasons_ , there is no shame in that.” Helena giggled, and felt a thrill at the fact that he had confirmed his status as single. 

"No judgement! I’ve been there. I’m still there honestly. TMI. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi before I went to get my pub ready for opening."

"Is it time already? Ah, much luck with it!" he said, and Helena thanked him. He rubbed his hands together. "How has the new house been treating you, hm?”

"Oh, it's great," Helena told him. "I've got everything out and sorted now, it looks great. Jesus, you should have seen me last night, though. Gave myself the fright of a lifetime." 

"What happened?"

"I heard all sorts of noises, I felt as if I was going out of my mind." Copia's expression was an oddly dire one, until Helena snorted. "Then my fucking phone went off, and I nearly had a heart attack," she told him, and Copia attempted to laugh with her.

"So the noises were just from your... eh, mobile phone?" he asked, biting his lip. He sounded so awkward speaking about technology, and _that lip bite_. Helena felt her heart beat a little faster at the motion.

"Well, no. But I was really tired last night and had the motherfucker of all headaches, so I’d believe it was my skull cracking itself apart before anything else." Copia nodded.

"Right." They walked up to her house, and Copia stopped at the door with a smile renewed on his face. He was so cute. "You have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Yes, cool. Best of luck again with the pub!"

"Copia!" Helena said quickly, and before she turned, she made sure to unzip her hoodie a little more. "Thank you. I like… walking with you." Copia lifted his chin, avoiding her obvious cleavage with his eyes at a respectful level. 

"I like walking with you too, Miss Langager," he smiled, and bent down to his garden. Picking a black flower, he handed it to her with a little nod, and turned to walk back home. Helena watched after him, holding the flower close to her chest and chewing on her bottom lip. God, she wanted him to kiss her. They had only just met, but she was sending out all the signals, wasn’t she? Maybe he had had a bad experience in the past with a relationship, which is why he was so reserved now. Or maybe he didn't rush into things. That was fine.

Helena wasn't used to men being so slow with her, and she never really saw the point in taking it slow either. That’s what Terzo had loved about her—how fast she was, how she had little to no inhibitions and gave it her all off the bat. But maybe Copia was more of a gentleman. She could appreciate that. She imagined that despite his reservations, he would be an excellent kisser.

Going inside and dismissing the idea, she got something warmer on and headed out to the future Langager’s. Once she had made it down the little path and into town, she caught Arthur and Dev on their way out of their deli restaurant. She waved to them, and watched in amusement as Dev calmly gave her the finger back and Aeth threw up his arms.

Once inside her tavern, she tied her hair back, and took a look around. This should be a piece of cake compared to cleaning her house.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a sunny day back in the city.

Primo looked around the tacky Halloween decorations as he and his brothers shopped around. Grimacing at one particularly distasteful looking rubber vampire bat, he sighed. "Shopping for the holidays just isn’t the same without her."

"It’s true that it feels like somebody is missing," Tobbe agreed, picking up a cheap knockoff KISS mask. "She would be all over this shit, too.”

Terzo hummed. “I wonder if they even celebrate Halloween in Svavel." 

"Of course, you idiot," Seco rolled his eyes. "They're not a primitive culture." Terzo flicked the underside of his chin and grabbed his bicep, saluting his brother with the Italian fuck you.

“Just because they do not live in the city, does not mean they do not celebrate holidays,” Primo added.

"Fine. Have you been there and seen for yourself?!"

"Father has," Primo sniffed. "He used to tell me all about it, how we supposedly had relatives out there years and years ago. How there used to be an old church there, centuries ago. The Satanic symbolism, he said, was a great influence on the early years of the band he started.”

“The band I took over?” Terzo smirked.

“The band we _each_ took over.”

“I was the one who skyrocketed us to fame when I took over ten years ago. You were stuck in party city costumes back in your day.” He punctuated this by lifting up an ugly, bedazzled pope costume.

“Those costumes were fucking atrocious,” Tobbe nodded. Primo glared at both of them.

“Beside the point. Father used to tell me tales of the days he visited the church there, and how the town seemed to be a relic in its own right.” 

Seco dropped a pair of novelty sunglasses back on the rack. “When did he tell you all this?”

“When you two were too busy drinking and fucking to listen.”

“I abhor that,” Seco snapped. “I can drink, fuck and listen at the same time. I’ve had years of practice doing so.” Terzo giggled and Tobbe headed off toward the back of the store as the store employee came over to the remaining three.

“Need any help looking for stuff? Got a costume in mind?” she beamed.

“We are fine, thank you,” Primo said, bowing his head.

“Peaches. Just lemme know if you need my help!” She leaned in. “I just love seeing families shopping together. You’ve got gramps, dad and son! All the generations represented, huh?!” Seco wanted to permanently fix the cheery grin on her face, but Primo just gave a weary sigh.

“Yes. How I love shopping with my children.” 

“You are a good sport for your age, grandpapa!” Terzo slapped him on the back too hard, and Primo shot his brother a withering look that said he was pushing it.

Tobbe came back over. “What did she say?”

“Nothing else, if she knows what’s good for her.” Seco changed the subject. "Terzo—why didn't your new bride come along with us today?" 

The youngest’s green eyes that usually twinkled with mirth dimmed. "Oh. Ira wasn’t feeling well today.”

“Really?”

Terzo was quiet for a moment. “To tell you the truth, she feels as though she is alienated a little bit. What, with everybody missing Hele so badly.” 

"And she didn't protest your excursion?" Tobbe asked, a slight smirk playing at his lips. 

"What kind of question is that?" Terzo demanded. "What the hell are you suggesting, you little worm?"

"Nothing, nothing.” Tobbe put his hands up, then sneaked a look back over. “…So I take it she was fine with it, yes?"

"Of course she was! It doesn’t matter, anyway. I can do what I want, I am a full grown man."

“A full grown moron,” Seco muttered.

“Maybe so, but what does that have to do with my wife, eh?” 

“Nothing at all,” Seco smiled, grabbing Terzo in a headlock. “But ever since the wedding, you never come out to play anymore!”

“I do so.”

“You do not!”

“Well, I am _taken_ now! Cazzo!”

“So? You came to the clubs with us when you were with Hele.”

“You certainly did,” Primo nodded. “You drank enough to put Silas himself to shame, and would grind your backside against every willing man and woman as Hele laughed along and encouraged you.”

“You even sucked me off one night in the booth while she watched,” Tobbe smiled wistfully, and the two older Emeritus brothers looked at the Swede. “What?! His idea, not mine!”

“I think it was the tequila’s idea,” Primo deadpanned.

“No, I wasn’t drunk yet at that point,” Terzo muttered idly. “I was just very interested in seeing Special’s cock, so I got thirsty when he pulled it out. He has a nice cock, _cosa sai fare!”_ Primo glanced down in exasperation, and Seco rubbed his temples.

“The point is, you could be yourself back then,” Seco sighed. “Not a shell of the man who used to get money thrown at him for table dancing while your girlfriend cheered you on!”

“That is because she knew I would come home with her at the end of it all,” Terzo said quietly. “Trust is different in every relationship, fratello. You don’t understand—it is not a question of control or loss of self. My Ira has been taken advantage of. She needs reassurance that I am in fact hers, and I will readily give it to her if it makes her happy. When she is happy, I am happy. And that is all there is to it.” The solemn conversation was put to bed as the youngest turned back around with sparkly pumpkin sunglasses and opened his arms. “They suit me, no?!”

-0-0-0-

Helena loved Halloween. It was her favorite holiday, and she always went all out. Part of the reason why she was so excited about owning a big house was decorating for the season—until she learned of the town’s alternative traditions.

“Halloween in Svavel’s…” Arther told her out on the street, “Different.”

“Different how?”

“Well, nobody here really does the trick or treating thing. We just... Svavel keeps old traditions,” he explained. “We don’t really go for the novelty stuff, like plastic masks and light up ghosts. It’s more like… well, you’ve just gotta see for yourself.”

She wasn’t going to attend. She had seen the flyers up around town, with the usual gimmicky pentagrams on it. Maybe it would be a way to meet more of the community, and have fun telling ghost stories while doing so.

As she sat down in the village square on the night of the 31st, she felt unfriendly eyes on her. _So much for the women building each other up thing._ She immediately felt hated by at least three of them. Worst of all, she didn’t see Dev or Aether—either they had come and gone already, or they were partaking in different, better Halloween activities, as Helena really should be.

“Felicem Vesperam Sanctam,” the lady at the front of the circle said. The fire pit burned in the center, and everyone repeated it.

“What’s, uh… what’s that mean?” she asked the man next to her. He didn’t respond.

“Glad Halloween,” the lady smiled, the crack in her weathered face splitting into what could only be described as a grotesque show of teeth. “Who would like to be the first to share a story?” 

The flyer had said communal storytelling, which seemed like something cool Helena would be into. This seemed more like a demented cult AA meeting. But, she had a good icebreaker. Maybe if it was scary enough, she’d win some points with the local community.

“Have you guys every heard the story of the Emerald Ring?” A few people shook their heads, so Helena took it as a cue. “This bride gets engaged to a man who proposed with this big, beautiful emerald ring. They’re in love, it’s perfect, until it’s not. Right before the wedding, the bride gets sick and passes away. Instead of a wedding, they hold a funeral—and the priest wants the ring. So, that night, when nobody’s looking, he tries to take the ring off her finger from where she is in the coffin. He can’t get it off so he cuts it off. Just as he’s walking away with the ring, he hears the coffin lid open again. He turns, and finds the coffin empty. Walking back over, he’s horrified. He drops the ring into the empty box, but it’s too late. He gets the knife he used to cut off her finger in his back… and turns to see the bloody bride, standing behind him.”

There were a few muttered reactions, but nobody looked particularly engaged or scared by it. Helena cleared her throat. “Right. I thought it was… pretty good, too. Glad Halloween?”

“You just moved into 664, didn’t you?” one woman sneered. Helena swallowed, nodded.

“Yep! I’m Hele--”

“I’ve got a ghost story about the house next door. A real story—a relevant story, to our heritage.” Helena quieted down. Even though this woman was a massive asshole, she actually wanted to hear something about Copia’s house. It may be a fun conversation starter in the future. “The old Satanic Church that used to stand there?” the woman went on. “It was a fire hazard, but that wasn’t the real reason it was ripped down. It was because of the awful wailing you would hear when you walked by. It grew louder and louder every night, until it just stopped suddenly. Some say it’s because of all the people that died there in agony from the plague back in the 1300s. Others say they can hear whispers, ancient chants of damnation. Whoever steps inside? Is sure to die, and die fast… getting dragged down to hell by the demons who have never left.”

Helena stood suddenly, and everyone looked over. “I…” She gestured back. “I forgot something at my…” She started to back away out of the circle of lawn chairs and weird people. “House. Not that anyone cares.”

She hugged her arms around herself as she walked back home through the night.

 _Just go home, throw on Trick r Treat to get your mind off that shit. It’s just a ghost story. You love ghost stories! Don’t know why that one got to you._ She smiled to herself, realizing it was still her favourite night of the year. Nothing could change the crisp, magical air tonight. It just felt different, like the veil between worlds really had been lifted for a little while. She tried to forget the cold stares of everyone back in town.

_At least they hadn’t told the Bloody Mary story again_ —she was getting sick of thinking of it. She wondered idly if Copia knew anything about the stories behind his own house. Apparently their whole block was just cursed or something.

She approached her pumpkin-riddled house, but saw something curious. Next to her, Copia had all his lights out except for something strange flickering on the porch railing. She approached, and saw that it was a carved out turnip, with a candle flickering inside. It looked like a small lantern. She started to imagine what Halloween with Copia would be like under normal traditional circumstances—decorating together, watching him trying to hang bats up above. Handing out candy, Copia in a silly vampire costume maybe, trying to convince the kids that came for candy that it was only dress up by taking out his plastic fangs and waving them.

_“Do you think that I scared them off?” Copia would murmur softly to her, watching the kids run down the path._

_“No,” she would reply, giggling at his Party City costume. “It definitely wasn’t you. The pumpkins, maybe.” He would turn to her, playfully offended._

_“You think I am not scary?” He would sweep his cape in front of his face. “I will drink your blood!”_

_“You dropped your glow in the dark fangs, Dracula. Not gonna do much without those.”_

_“Ah, shit...”_

_“How about we get you out of the costume?”_

_“No, no. The bat cape is staying on tonight,” he’d grin, draping it over her._

With a soft smile, she looked up from her fantasy, and saw that his curtains were drawn tonight. From what she could see, there was a faint glow coming from inside, between the curtains, accompanied by a low humming sound. She thought of knocking, but decided against it. She walked back over to her own porch, then remembered the story.

_Awful wailing every night, with a low thrum you could swear was coming from something unnatural._

“Happy Halloween,” she whispered to him, and unlocked her front door.

-0-0-0-

It was cool on the early November night, so Helena decided to run a bath. This was the first time her night wasn’t lost to unpacking since she had moved, and she felt that she deserved to relax after putting so much effort into getting her new life started here.

Starting the water running, she breathed in the steam that rose up contentedly, and added some pumpkin pie scented bubbles. She was so in love with the obscure scent that she bought two bottles before she left Stockholm. The tub was nothing like her cramped apartment’s was in the city, with the cracks and perpetual grime. This one was a huge, dipping clawfoot tub, and there looked to be enough room to stretch out her legs without sacrificing the warmth of the water on any protruding kneecaps.

She tuned her FM radio to play some soft Leonard Cohen that was on. Slipping out of her clothes, she hummed along to the song ‘Avalanche’ as she cracked the door ajar and got into the tub. The bubbles felt amazing as did the hot water, and Helena relaxed further under. It was so nice to be alone.

Water parted as she lifted up a little, studying the half sleeve of tattoos on her upper left arm. It was filled with images that would disturb the faint of heart, and faded depictions of different things that had meant different things to her when she was growing up. One of these was the Emeritus brothers’ band sigil that Copia had been looking at: an ornately detailed grucifix. Once she had full legal autonomy over her skin according to country’s age of tattoo consent, she had gone out and gotten the whole top half of her arm done—it had now become a part of her, so much so that she frequently forgot it hadn’t been there once. The only other spot on her body that was inked was the line art of a tiny heart on her right wrist.

As she went to relax again, she realized with a groan that she had forgotten the lighter for the candles. Heaving a sigh and swearing under her breath at herself, she got out.

Wrapping a towel around herself, she padded down the hallway, her footsteps leaving tracks behind on the wooden slats. The towel began to slip, and she grabbed it… then reconsidered. She didn't know why she had the towel at all. It wasn't like anyone could see her. Even if she had all the windows open, it wasn't like the city where someone would inevitably be watching a lit up apartment unit. The only person she had to worry about seeing her was—

Helena’s mouth curled up, and she dropped the towel to the ground. She sauntered down the hall, making sure she was in full view of her windows. When she checked though, all his lights seemed to be out. _Too bad. He missed a great show._ She hurried back to the bath to get rid of her goosebumps, got in, and felt the tension in her body lift once again. She lit three of the candles, and watching the orange glow flicker, Helena exhaled, dragging her fingertips through the water.

Troubles seemed far away at first, but inevitably her mind was unable to avoid them. Her thoughts drifted to the last time she had been kissed by a man. She couldn't remember who it was, but it had been some guy that vaguely resembled Terzo.

Helena was tired of wanting her ex. She had lost interest, even if he hadn't, or so she told herself. But oh, how he used to fuck her. He would take his time on some nights, coaxing the sweetest sounds from her as he took his time with every inch of her body, from her lips to her toes, sinking his tongue just past her folds to lick and tease her aching clit. Then there were the nights when he took her fast and hard, when he knew she needed it, needed him. Terzo had been not only well-endowed, but skilled, one reason she hadn’t been able to find as much pleasure in his rebounds or temporary replacements following their split.

_He’s just a friend. Friends don’t think of fucking friends._

With a stubborn clench of her fists, she instead sought out thoughts of Angelo Copia.

Letting out the tiniest of sighs, she thought of her awkward, _attainable_ next door neighbor. He was everything Terzo wasn't, which was perfect. Terzo’s charisma was replaced by Copia’s odd charm. Terzo’s way with words was replaced by the dirty little disjointed jokes Copia made. Full lips became smaller ones, lined at the apex by a thin, well-groomed mustache. Black hair became chestnut, and Helena imagined her fingers running through it, tugging him closer as he finally took what he wanted from her and admitted his deepest, darkest fantasies of his desire to make her scream.

“Mmm,” she hummed, letting her fingers drift lower, down to brush against the ache between her legs and imagining a mustache tickling the skin there. It was new—she enjoyed the image. She hadn’t just been running her mouth earlier about the frequency with which she had to do this. She was a woman with a high sex drive, and with a man like that just introduced into her life? The frequency was about to get higher. Rubbing a little faster, her hips shifted under the water. Everything was perfect. The hot water built the tension aching to be lifted, and her fingers deftly worked to satisfy this. “Copia…” she whispered, feeling her breath hitch and toes curl. She was on her way to a record orgasm, under two minutes it had taken her. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted the man in the house next to hers. “Yes,” she sighed, lips parting as she began to contract, “Just like that—”

Helena heard a door shutting quietly, and her eyes opened to startling reality. Pulling herself back from the fantasy, she saw that it wasn't the bathroom door that had just been closed; she could see out into the hallway, and all of those doors remained open as well. Leaning over the side of the bathtub, she peered out, but still couldn't see far enough down the hallway. Maybe she had been imagining it, but after everything she had heard the past few nights, she was hesitant to brush it off. Sighing as she mourned the arousal that was ebbing away, she reached for her oversized t-shirt, dried off, blew her candle out for the time being, and slipped into the garment.

“Fucking cock-blocking old house,” she muttered, pinning her hair up. She wiggled two of the fingers on her right hand. “Finger-blocking, more like. Sounds like finger-blasting. Don’t I wish?” She snorted at her inner monologue, and crept down the hall.

The darkness of the hallway unnerved the blonde, especially since she didn't know which door had been closed and more importantly how it had been done. After carefully inspecting each, she deduced that the door that had closed hadn’t been on this floor.

She heard something else downstairs, like water running. _Fuck. I’m going to have to check that too._ In walking down however, she saw that none of the sinks were on, not in the main bathroom or the kitchen. This was really getting strange. Then she felt it again. The cool breeze on the back of her neck, instantly drying the water droplets there. It almost felt like a breath.

Turning slowly and as bravely as she could, Helena peered over her shoulder—to once again find nothing. Letting out a growl of frustration, she walked through her house to the back door, making sure it was locked and making sure the windows were all closed. She finally reached the back door of the big place and looked out.

"What the fuck?" Helena whispered. It looked like there was someone out there, taking a walk. They seemed thin, with dark hair, from what she could make out in the dark… It was almost 1 AM by now! They'd have to be crazy to be out for a walk at this time, especially without a coat.

Another bump sounded, something that sounded like a bunch of heavy belts clinking together. Helena whipped around in time to see a bloody face by her kitchen window, one that looked exactly like if she wasn't mistaken, the one from the reflection in the lake. Letting out a scream, her back hit the door in shock.

_Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes, and it’ll go away._

When she finally mustered up the courage, she took a few steps toward the kitchen. She couldn't see anyone anymore. She turned around and her eyes watered as she ran upstairs, only to slip on the water trail she had left from the bath. Cursing loudly, she held her knee, and limped up to the third floor to hide in her room—

And found that the door to her bedroom was the one that had closed.

Stumbling backward, Helena made her way downstairs as quickly as she could, and, pulling every goddamn curtain shut on the whole first floor of her house and turning off all the lights, she got under the wool blanket on the couch. She felt around until she found her phone, which she had left on one cushion. Yearning and the past be damned; she sent off a text to her friends:

_Come visit ASAP. I need to hear someone else's voice for a change._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to a dear friend of mine who gave me some ideas that I've planted in this chapter!

She got the response almost instantly that she would soon be receiving guests. Morning came, and with it, the safety of the sunrise. The halls were no longer shrouded in the uncertainty of darkness and what could be in it. Helena got up from the couch, peeking around the first floor. Now that the sun had come up, she felt silly for her hasty reaction last night of huddling on the couch under two blankets all night, but when she remembered the door that had been closed, she was reminded of the reason.

 _Guess I should go open that door,_ she thought, chewing on her bottom lip. _I’m going to have to at some point, I decided to sleep in there._

She crept up to the third level, as if stepping on a creaky floorboard could take what she was afraid of last night and plant it right here in front of her. She wasn’t sure anymore what could happen in this house, and it was unnerving. Batting her door open, she looked inside. It seemed empty, for the most part. There was always behind her door, but she could see through the crack that there was nobody there.

Helena entered the bedroom, looking around with her hands on her hips. “You little shit,” she muttered, “Why do you only screw with me at night?” Immediately, she felt she shouldn’t have called him names. If he had slammed a door last night, what was stopping him from slapping her face into the floor tonight?

Her room was a mess, she realized. Ghosts were one thing, but showing guests around with panties on the bed and paintings not yet hung wasn’t what she was about. Helena rolled up her sleeves, and brushed her curly hair back into a ponytail. Dragging a finger through the mantle by her bed, she winced. She had forgotten to dust the place when she moved in.

She got to it, hanging the paintings she owned first. Just as she had told Copia, she loved art, and these were her favorites. She had three of Francisco Goya’s paintings, two Black Paintings from 1823: Time of the Old Women, Deaf Man, and the third a less haunting depiction, The Equinist. After hanging the works of art, she took a good look at them with a soft laugh. No wonder she was seeing ghosts.

She got to dusting, and was nearly done her mantle when she felt her foot catch on something. Looking down, she frowned. She got on her knees, easing down with a grimace on the bruised one from last night. There were a couple of slivers from the wood sticking up from the edge of a floorboard. She went to pick them out, but noticed the edge of the board on the other side was protruding upward. A thrill of something ran through her. Was it fear or excitement?

 _There would probably be nothing there. What was this, Nancy Drew?_ Still. Even if she only found a family of dust bunnies and a couple of nails, it was still more fun than cleaning. If she found rat sleeping under there, she’d have a reason to visit Copia again. Helena carefully fitted her fingers underneath the corner of the piece of wood, and pried upward. The floorboard slid off with some difficulty, and Helena’s eyes widened.

_A journal. There was a journal._

“Okay,” she whispered, taking it out. A spider crawled out from underneath it, and she raised an eyebrow at it. How long had this been hidden? Since it was her house, she decided it was not only her right but her responsibility to open it. Whoever it belonged to had to be long gone or long dead, right?

She wished she hadn’t thought that. The first page held a date that made her blood run cold. 1998. She thought back to all those news articles she had read about the house, and found that her finger had stalled on the edge of the page. She didn’t know if she wanted to turn it. Curiosity got the better of her, and she did. The second page was scrawled with messy handwriting and spelling mistakes that she did her best to make out.

_September 8, 1998_

_This is so fucking stupid. I want to get the band started, you know? Back in New York State, we had a group. We were good, we were going places. Here, I don’t know anybody. It’s pickled fish this, ABBA that. ABBA isnt terible, but fuck my ass, its anoying hearing about them all the god dam time. Fuckin Swedish assholes. Why can’t I have their sucksess? Why cant I take Repugnant to new hights? Fuck, if I had the money and fame, I could have whatever I want, I could get my bandmates out here, wed be drowning in pussy, too. Man, Im fucking horny, I gotta find some Swedish chik with big tits and get layed. Swedish women are suposed to be hot, right? I haven’t seen any evidance of that shit around here. Short end of the stick I guess, unlucky for my dick. If I get famous and rich, Ill attract all that. Fuck, I want it bad._

_Mom and Dad are all right. Beccas okay, but she doesnt get it. Their cool and I love them and all, but I’d give it all up—everything in this life—to get what I want. What I’m born to fucking do… I gotta find a way._

Helena got a shiver as she read the sign off: MG. This was Mary’s diary? He sounded like a bored, albeit crass, frustrated teen boy… not like a horrible murderer. Of course, people can go off the deep end in a second, but he mentioned he loved his family. It didn’t add up. Just as she was going to flip to the next page, her phone buzzed. She grabbed it, and read the text. Her guests would be arriving that afternoon instead of tomorrow. She reluctantly shut the diary, resting it on her nightstand. She’d have to finish it another time.

-0-0-0-

"We knew you would miss us,” Seco smiled smugly. Primo wrapped Helena up with strength contradictory to his age and, almost lifting her off the ground, gave her a tight hug. They had come around mid-afternoon.

"I just didn't want you to feel forgotten," Helena retorted, setting their bags onto the stairs. “Where’s Terzo?” Honestly, she hadn’t expected him to come. Ira would want him at home, or maybe she wouldn’t feel comfortable about her new husband heading off to some creepy little Satanic town in rural Sweden for a weekend with an ex-lover. Really, that seemed like a sensible thing to be adverse to. But…

“That was much longer than two hours, Primo!” a voice complained. Terzo dropped his bags with a dramatic huff at the doorstep, and beamed when he saw Helena. “Look at you. A homeowner!”

“I know. It’s surreal,” she grinned.

“You never answered my text,” he said, feigning hurt by placing a hand over the Candlemass logo on his t-shirt’s chest. “You… what is it called? You ghosted me!”

“I got busy.”

“So this door, it is far too bright. You are going to paint it black, yes?”

"Sure, Mick Jagger. Speaking of redecorating—come find your guest rooms in the labyrinth that is my house."

"It really is something," Primo commented, looking around at the huge place. "Beautiful. And you are sure we are not intruding, my dove?" Helena stopped to stare at her friend.

"Prim, _I_ invited _you_ , and I'm the only one who lives here. What do you think?" The eldest nodded, waving his hands in understanding. Seco took Hele by her own hands, and looked around the place appreciatively as the other two brothers explored a little.

"It is lovely to see you again. Terzo almost did not come, you know. But after some nagging on our part, he was surprised when Ira said she was alright with the notion. He said she wanted to overcome her insecurities, that it was some kind of big step for them."

"Well. Whatever the circumstances, I’m glad he made it,” Helena said, keeping her tone friendly.

“Are you?” Seco raised an eyebrow. Damn him for being the most intuitive of them all. Then he dismissed his probing. "Bah. Comunque, non importa. Where do you keep your olive oil?! Can you believe that I forgot mine?!" He moved on, going to raid the cupboards as the other two ventured up the stairs. Helena looked down the hall at the bedroom door that had remained closed, and got chills at the memory of the night before. At least it put her at ease knowing her best friends would be staying in one of the guest rooms. Now she wouldn't have to be alone; at least for a little while.

Once everyone got settled in, they fell into the roles of their easy friendship. Primo took out a book he had brought along (a reread of an old gothic called The Monk). Seco produced a bag full of fresh herbs and veggies from Primo’s garden and gourmet sauces, promising to cook up the best dinner Helena had eaten since her move. Terzo’s flamboyance had diffused slightly since his arrival, and Helena was trying to figure out why. She watched as he headed out the back door to the porch overlooking the lake, and followed him out curiously. She closed the screen door behind her.

He acknowledged her presence with a nod. “Do you mind if I…?” he asked, shaking a box of cigarettes, and she shook her head, heaving herself up onto the white porch railing. He flicked his lighter, took a drag, and exhaled in relief. He looked around. “So. This is a big fucking house.” 

Helena snorted, and looked around as well. “Yeah.”

“I assume you’re enjoying it?” he asked playfully. “ _Dancing_ into the early hours of the morning, letting your free spirit out and skinny dipping in this lake over here?”

“It’s not my lake,” she laughed. “Maybe as a teenager, but now? Don’t think so. At least not until nighttime.”

“But you admit, the idea has crossed your mind.” He pointed to her.

“Honestly, not until you mentioned it. Now, I can see the appeal…” She looked over to her neighbor’s house, and vaguely wondered if she could get arrested for that particular method of trying to turn him on.

Terzo gestured down to the pristine white box of expensive Italian MS filtros. _So, he was still bumming off of Seco_. "You want the last one?" he asked. “I know you used to enjoy these.” 

"No," she said decisively. "When I leave something behind, I leave it behind for good." Terzo's gaze snapped up to her, and her lips parted. "I didn't mean..."

"I know," he sighed, and looked down at his feet. "I know this about you, and that is why I know you are okay. Yes?" He studied her silence. "You... are okay, right?"

She thought of telling him about everything. How scared she was at night, what she had seen in the lake. She craved the safety she felt in his arms when he would comfort her. But she had quit him. Those arms were no longer open for her. They couldn't be, or one thing would lead to another. The whole point of moving out here was to find solace in being alone, learning to live with herself first and foremost. She got up, resting against the wall of the house beside him and crossing her arms.

"Yeah. I'm okay." Terzo looked at her, took another thoughtful pull and exhaled the smoke from the side of his lips.

"You are telling the truth?" His voice dropped a couple of octaves. "You would not lie to me, mm?" 

Helena shivered at the familiar dominance in that accent. "I'm..."

"Because," he went on, sleeve brushing against hers, "I would never judge you if you were not. I am somebody you can trust. You know this." Helena could hear his every movement, the small exhaled breath that escaped him, the shift of his weight and the rustle of his sleeve as he finished off his cigarette. He was so close, and his aftershave was stupidly intoxicating. _Go back inside. Go the fuck back inside._

"I don't…" she murmured, turning to face him fully. His black hair was falling into his eyes, and his lips were just beginning to part. "Fuck," she whispered in surrender, and he wrapped a practiced hand around her torso, drawing her in for a kiss that made her head spin. She clutched at his shoulders, not sure if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer. His mouth pressed firmly to hers again, breaking only for air between the rush of lips and heady breaths. Helena knew what came next. Their kisses always led to more, the desire to finish what they started, and by the wetness she could already feel slicking her panties, the desire was certainly there. But he couldn't have her like this on the front porch. He couldn't have her at all.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, breaking away. She felt cold and empty as his hand left her back, and wrapped her arms around herself instead as tears pricked her eyes.

"Why are you sorry?" he whispered, chest heaving. "I… I am the one who kissed you." He shook his head, the anger in his eyes mostly directed at himself. "Fuck, I do stupid things."

"I could've told you that," she whispered, tears threatening to spill.

"Cara..." Terzo started, the guilt inside eating him up. She sat down against the wall, and held her head in her hands.

"Nothing is going right, Terzo. I thought this house would be amazing. I thought it would be my new start, somewhere I could be happy. I even found someone here I like, and it’s only been a few weeks. You just got married! That makes me..."

"It was my fault," he swallowed. "I kissed you, I am the one who must bear this on my conscience."

"I wanted it," she moaned. "I haven’t gotten laid properly in weeks, I'd probably spread my legs for you too, if I didn't stop myself. Shit!" 

"Then this is what we do," he mumbled into her hair, collecting her into his lap. She gave a sob, and he patted her head. "Ah, shh, shh. Here. We’re not going to make this weird. We know each other too well for it to come to that, hm? Hm?” She slowly nodded. “Good. Now. Neither of us spreads our legs. We go back in there, I will distract Seco as you steal some of his cooking for us to taste... and we treat this like a cleansing. No more of it. Yes? How does that sound?"

Helena dried her eyes, almost ready to cry again at how sweet he was being. "Yeah."

"And why?” Terzo prodded her chest. “Because friends don't let friends fuck each other.” Helena couldn't help it. She burst out laughing in his arms, and he helped her up with a soft chuckle, escorting her back inside.

"Did you steal my cigarettes again?!" Seco immediately barked, and Terzo moseyed up to the kitchen counter to initiate their plan of distraction, thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

"I did just that, bellisimo stronzo," he replied smugly. "And I will take the last one too, if you don't mind."

"I do mind! Merda santa cazzo!”

“Come, you must preserve your operatic, “classically trained” vocals, no?” Terzo teased.

“I am not the frontman of the band any longer, so I need not worry about those. You, on the other hand, have legions of fans to please!”

“They enjoy my husky voice,” Terzo said, dropping his voice down low and dramatically wiggling his fingers. “They like to _please_ themselves to it.” He stole a zucchini, stuck it in front of his crotch, and began miming pleasuring himself with it.

“See where that gets you when you try to hold a note and your lungs give out, eh?” Seco gave him a pompous smile. “Now, when you stop kidding yourself that you're going to quit and buy your own, then perhaps I will..." As the bald older man reamed his little brother out with a threatening wooden spoon in hand, Helena stole one of the torta rusticas, and gave Terzo the thumbs up. 

That night, the four had set up in the living room after a gourmet dinner with some fine Italian wine they had brought and selection of cheeses to go with it.

"So who's this _Copia_?" Terzo asked. Helena had been gushing about him, and if she was slightly tipsy, that would be the reason. She knew her secrets would never leave the room.

"My neighbor," Helena giggled. "He's so nice and kind, and holy shit-- if you could see the ass on the man--"

"Always on about the ass, eh?" Terzo laughed.

“It’s magnificent, I would fucking… worship his ass in bed.” She made a kissing motion. “MWAH!” Primo cut in.

"Have you two—”

"Tied one another to the bedposts yet?" Seco asked, and Primo pursed his lips curtly.

"That is not what I was going to ask."

"It is what _I_ was going to ask."

"I was going to ask if you've spent any time together, perhaps on a date?" Primo asked, frowning. Helena smiled, tucking errant curls behind her ear.

"No to both, unfortunately. But once you head out, maybe I'll just be burning with so much desire for Copia that I'll be forced to invite him over at once and have the man," she said dramatically, taking another long sip of wine. “In fact, I’d like to right now, I’m horny as shit.”

"Why not do it tomorrow? We’ll try to stay out of the way if you want to get to the good bit," Terzo joked.

"No no no no, we'll want to ‘get to the good bit’ on every surface of the house-- in every room."

"There she is," Terzo grinned, lifting his glass.

Seco nodded. “Helena, best in bed in all of Sweden. Italy too, I’m certain.” Primo smiled slightly, lifting his own glass up. 

“Speaking of which,” she grinned, “I think he’s Italian too!”

“Another one of us, eh?” Terzo asked. “You have a type.”

“I just happen to like the accent. And it was a complete coincidence.” She settled back into the comfortable silence, as Primo spoke up.

"Remember back in the beginning, when we would have nights such as this one?" he asked wistfully.

"We would have the best times," Helena sighed, pouring more wine for everyone. “A little wine, a little weed from Prim’s homegrown stash. Good food.”

“Mm, yes. This is long overdue."

"The only thing missing is Special," Terzo muttered, taking a bite of his cracker and gruyere, “I miss that sad fuck."

"I, for one, am glad we don't have you and Tobbe running around, drawing male appendages on us in the middle of the night," Seco grumbled, lounging back onto a pillow. Terzo shrugged.

"It can only improve your face—there’s no getting any uglier." He dodged a cracker with a laugh. “Perhaps a mustache?!”

"I’ve got enough facial hair as it is, thank you.”

“You mean that caterpillar on your face?” Terzo snarked, and Primo and Helena nearly toppled into one another in laughter. Between chuckles, Primo spoke up.

“Silas looks nice with a mustache.”

“Swiss is the only person who looks good with one!” Terzo muttered. “And his is a real one, nice and bushy, it has some oomph!”

“Copia’s got a mustache,” Helena smiled.

“Is it ugly, like Seco’s?”

_“Bastardo!”_

“It’s gorgeous, and cute,” she sighed. “Just like him. A cutie, with a sexy little mustache.” Before she got too sappy, Helena flipped around, digging around in a backpack. "You brought movies!" she exclaimed, looking through the titles. "Oh, thank god. We've only got three channels out here."

"How do you live?" Terzo joked, finishing off the wine bottle and venturing off on a quest to find a new one.

"I convinced him to bring all the good ones," Primo spoke up. "Dellamorte Delamore, The Mask of Satan, I Vampiri, Black Sabbath, and Hele’s favourite—The Old Dark House.”

"Those are quality films, Primovera," Terzo called from the kitchen. "We all know she is going to pick the most terrifying of the selection.”

"We do have time to watch most of them tonight, if we are up to watching them in succession," Seco mused, reading the back of one of the titles. Helena hesitated, looking down at the floor. It was true that she was always the one to force the guys to watch the scariest movies known to humankind, but...

"You know me too well," she feigned a smile. "But I think I'm in the mood for something less freaky tonight. What about, uh... here, you brought Il Postino! I still haven't seen it." Seco stared at her, and Terzo stopped his bustling in the kitchen to stare as well.

"You… you want to watch The Postman?" Terzo asked, sauntering back to the huge living room. "Helena Langager wants to watch something that _wouldn’t_ give the average human being the shits for a week?!"

"Whatever. I'm just in a state, I suppose."

"A state?" Primo asked worriedly, "Why?" Seco also looked interested, and Helena mentally cursed herself for dropping that hint. She hadn't wanted to bring it up to her friends, but now that they were on the subject, she might as well explain.

"It's nothing much," she muttered, then leaned in. "I just heard a few noises, that's all."

"Ghostly wailing? Chains and screaming, all that?" Seco asked, and Terzo nudged him in the leg for being insensitive.

"No," Helena whispered, looking up the staircase warily. "Just... other noises." She brought her fingers up to her mouth, chewing on a nail. "I... saw a face at the window too, and saw someone walking around the bushes."

Seco’s smile faltered, and Primo seemed alarmed. "Do you think someone's been stalking you?" Terzo asked, protective mode kicking in.

"No, no. Well maybe, I don't know," Helena admitted, gazing out the window as well, remembering the horrifying bloody face. "Why would anyone want to stalk me?”

“You’re a pretty woman alone in a great big house. Who better?” Seco scoffed.

“But it's not just outside the house. I mean, I'm hearing things in here too, and I know there isn’t some squatter in my house, I’ve just spent the week cleaning it. Unless it's a crafty little rat stalking me, I don't know what to make of it."

"You're not truly thinking it's..." Seco started, looking between his brothers and Helena, "Anything _supernatural_ , are you?" Helena let out a sigh.

"No. But I'm shaken, that's all."

"And that's why you invited us over," Terzo realized. Helena nodded.

"Last night, it got bad. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do," she breathed, lower lip beginning to tremble. "It was like a nightmare." Primo wrapped her in a hug, and Terzo and Seco joined in, the four squeezing each other tightly.

“Ghosts, my dear, only have power where you give them any,” Seco whispered, and Helena wiped a tear.

"You know what I think you need?" Terzo murmured to her. "More to drink, and a good emotional movie to hold you over on handsome next door. Wine makes you even more horny, so drink up and have fun with yourself later. You deserve it." He winked. “And a tip for the nocturnal games-- if pushing your button does not work the first time, push it again.” The woman laughed, wiping her eyes, and took the offered glass.

Much later into the small hours of the night, Helena woke up in a cold sweat, wrapped in a sheet. She opened her eyes to darkness all around her, stale air filling her lungs as she sat up. Looking around and adjusting to her surroundings, she realized that she was in her own bedroom, still feeling a little woozy from the wine.

Turning on the lamp and checking her phone, she saw that it was 3:37 in the morning, and slumped back against the wooden headboard. She looked around her room to check and see if anything was out of the ordinary, but everything, even the curtains, was just as she had placed it. Then she remembered that the guest rooms were right under hers for the time being, one just down the hall from her, and relaxed a little.

She was safe. She was safe, and she could defend herself against anything...

Not that she would need to, she hoped. Her gaze settled on the book next to the bed. She could barely see clearly, let alone read, but… she reached for it.

_January 1, 1999_

_New year. They say this years suposed to be the end of the world or some shit. Dum fucks. I dont really care if it is… nothing’s going right. I hate this place. Familys fine, but they dont get it. Everything is fucking weird here. Theres a Satanic Church next door. What the fuck?_

_I mean Im into Satan as much as the next goth, but fuck, I never thoght Id be living next door to him. (I don’t know, he probably doesn’t live there, but the people who do are fucked too.)_

_Maybe Ill go introduce myself or some shit. Gotta be better than picking my hangnails and jerking off all day._

_I wanna do something with my shitty life, Im in my 20s and stuck here. I still feel fucking worthless._

_Whatever._

_-MG_

Helena raised her eyebrows. She felt as if she was getting to know Mary, but it still didn’t make any sense. How had this seemingly normal guy turned into that? With a chill, she remembered what he ended up doing. Maybe the evidence was in this book. Something nobody else found after the murders, telling why he did it. As of now, she couldn’t find even the hint of a motive, or even a sign.

She flipped the page.

_January 2, 1999_

_I talked to the guy next door. Weird ass fucker. But the Church… holy shit. I never knew all the shit you could do with Satan. All those demons? I got a book from them. This creepy lady with long blonde hair and sexy eyes gave it to me. Maybe shell fuck me if I do this right._

_This demon shit is creepy, but so am I right? All the different princes of hell you can invoke for different stuff. It’s crazy. I told Becca about it, she told me to be careful with all this stuff. What does she know? She didn’t even know Venom was a band. My sister, the pop princess. Ugh. Whatever, shes still my little sis. Fuckin hate her. Did I say hate? Meant love. ha_

_Fuck it. This is what Ive been waiting for. Ill chronicle everything in here… next time I write I might be a famous death metal artist already, swimming in babes and money._

_-Yours Diabolically,_

_MG_

Helena frowned, sitting up higher in bed. What had Mary done? He seemed excited about trying out an invocation of some sort that was given to him from the Church next door. She looked up from the book, and felt her head begin to spin again. She felt nervous, almost guilty for reading the book. What if he was watching her? The entity haunting her house and the boy from this diary didn’t feel like the same person. She couldn’t figure it out… and she certainly couldn’t tonight, as she passed out with a yawn.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do whatever you want, just don't wreck the furniture," Helena told her friends the next day, opening the door, “I happen to like my furniture.” She was heading out to work, albeit with a small hangover, and the brothers nodded dutifully as she left. 

“I will make sure they do not step out of line!” Terzo called sternly, and Seco slapped him upside the head.

In town, as she was unlocking the tavern, Hele fixed the sign that read ‘Langager’s’, and smiled. It was a dream come true. She was feeling much better about everything after last night, and it felt good to look at her accomplishments.

"It’s a beaut," a voice from behind her said, and she turned.

"Arthur! I appreciate you saying that. I cleaned it up a few days ago, now I'm just waiting for business to pick up.”

"I'm sure you make a wonderful bartender, Hele," Arthur smiled. "Can I call you Hele?” She nodded. “People around here will flock to this place, I know it. The bunch of curmudgeons around here’ve just got to get used to seeing your face around town. They’ll come around."

"I hope they do. I’m not going anywhere. I've got the experience, at least," Helena said. "My entire career has been sustained by drunk old men." She frowned. “That… sounds strange.”

“Nothing wrong with drunk old men, when they’ve got the quid to back it up.”

She giggled, and Arthur turned to greet his husband, who currently looked like the Terminator on a mission. Hele took a deep breath as Devon walked right past Aeth and got in her face—as close as he could get to it from down there, at least.

"Helena.” He surprised her by bowing his head solemnly. “I wanted to apologize for what I said. And my… attitude. Aether explained to me that you were having a tough time here fitting in. I can relate to that.” He thrust his fist out for a bump, tapping his foot. “I don’t apologize twice, so hurry up and accept my apology.” Helena smirked, bumping his fist.

"No worries. If a nice guy like Aeth married you, you must be alright.”

“Oh, stoppit you,” Arthur waved.

“Also, I don't hold it against you that you were wary of an outsider from a house like mine. Most small towns are like that, I wasn't expecting a welcome mat rolled out for me when I first arrived."

“I just wanted you to know, I’m not like the rest of the people here who hate every newcomer and whisper behind their back. I’m an asshole, but if you don’t bother me too much, I’m a solid friend.” Helena nodded. “Dev Ignio-Locus, by the way. That’s my name. You may call me Devon or Dev, not gremlin, not stompy, not dew, not fire, not demon. Dev or Devon.”

“Those other names are reserved for me,” Aeth grinned. “Eh, stompy?”

“Shut up.” The closest thing to a blush Helena would ever see on Dev graced his features, and he took a step back to link his pinky with Arthur’s fondly.

“Helena Langager. That’s me. And I’d be glad to call you my friend, Dev.” Helena looked between the two of them. "Where were you two headed off to? If you've got nowhere to be, I'll bestow the honor upon you two of having the ceremonial first drinks in the place."

"We just came from our little old restaurant, actually," Aeth informed her, a sadness passing over his eyes. He scratched the back of his head. "We've had to sell."

Helena's eyes widened. "What? The deli? No! To who?!" 

"His name is Ryan Pluviam," Dev muttered, rolling his eyes, "Or Rain, to those who know him.” Helena frowned. People in this town had strange nicknames. “--Everyone thinks he’s such a goddamn angel. Oh, look at the cute shy boy, blah blah fuck. But I’ve seen the side of him he only shows at his worst. The asshole’s been jealous of everything I do ever since high school, and he’s had it out for our business ever since I married Aeth and settled down."

"Now he's finally gone and done it," Arthur muttered, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. "Saved up enough money to buy the place."

"Just because you’re happy and he’s not?!”

“Well, he always was a little bitch,” Dev snapped.

“But where will you work now?" Helena asked. Arthur glanced down at his partner.

"Dev could make us some money in the underground sex club circuit. He’s quite the dom.”

“Only for you,” Dev huffed, kicking the dirt. “What about you? You could start painting.”

“What? Houses?”

Helena suddenly got an idea. "Wait! You two can work for me!"

Dev blinked up at her, and the cheer returned to Arthur’s eyes. "Really?!”

“Of course I do.”

“Oh! What a doll!” The taller came forward and gave Helena a big swinging hug. He tried to drag his husband into it too, and the poor, cantankerous shorter man was crushed into their arms with a grumble.

"No, it's no worries," Helena laughed as the tall man let her go. "I was looking for some employees anyway, so I can work shifts like my last job."

"It’s very kind of you." Dev said, and offered something of a smile. "We're in your debt."

"It's no big deal at all," Helena assured again. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll show you around the place before we exchange numbers and all that?” She opened the door to let them in for the day.

Back at the house, Primo was sitting in a big armchair that had been left behind by the previous owners of Helena's house, reading an old copy of the Svavel paper from the 90s he had found in a shop that day. Beside him, Seco swirled around a glass of scotch he had brought along. "Have you found anything yet on your futile little hunt?" he called up, and a disheveled looking Terzo poked his head around the corner.

"It is not going to come out easy, brother.” 

“Are you pleasuring yourself, or ghost hunting?”

“Very funny. Not a problem if the bastard wants to hide—I will find it and I will banish it."

"Just keep trying, Terzo. I’m certain Helena will be very happy that you dug through every room of her house while she was gone.” Seco exchanged a loaded look with Primo. “Make sure to have something to defend yourself with, for when she gets home. And for when this malevolent spirit comes out to say hello!”

"Do not patronize me, you miserable shit," Terzo muttered, popping back out of sight, “I am only trying to help her.” They could hear the faint voice of their little brother, fading further away. " _If you're in this house spirit, please give me a sign!"_ Seco shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"The schmuck.”

Primo noticed something in the paper as he flipped it back over to the front. Raising his voice, the eldest looked up. “Terzo! Let the dead sleep and come down here to read this!" Terzo came walking down, and Primo handed him the newspaper with the title: _Bloody Mary Murders rock Svavel_. "It appears this place was a bloodbath back in the day.”

“And? You love blood,” Terzo deadpanned, looking at his eldest brother. Primo shrugged.

“I thought this may be relevant to Hele’s discomfort in the house. I like blood, and a little cannibalism is fun now and then—” Seco choked on his drink. “—But this is a bit extreme. This Bloody Mary fellow…” Terzo looked over the picture, of a young man with black hair and sadistic eyes. “See what he did? Back in the late 90s, he took a kitchen knife, put it right through the man’s neck in his bed while he slept, then proceeded to gut him and…" 

“‘Desecrate’ his insides,” Terzo quoted the article, making a face. “That’s not very nice. The wife was mutilated too..." he muttered, scanning down the article.

"But the sister managed to kill him before she died," Primo finished, putting his feet up. "Bashed the front of his head in with a blunt object, and he bled to death right there on those stairs. By the stains, apparently they could tell she had been dragged by Mary all the way down, and on the last step, she killed him before she passed away from blood loss herself about an hour later." 

"Damn."

"Yes. It was heralded as the bloodiest crime Svavel has ever seen. Hence—Bloody Mary. They say it took five people to clean up the mess. But his body was hidden somewhere near here, to cover up the scandal."

“The scandal prevailed,” Seco snorted, looking at the paper. 

“Indeed it did. And he did it all in the name of Satan,” Terzo read, examining the pictures of the sigils left on the wall.

"It is crazy," Seco murmured, looking around the place, "What this town drives people to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, all this Satanic mysticism surrounding everything here.”

“Yes,” Primo mused. “The church that used to be here, they were true believers of course. They worshipped some dark lord. No wonder Helena's hearing things. Do you think she knows about the murders here?” Seco shrugged.

"I don't know. There must be something going on here; we all know she's not one for believing in spooks." Terzo looked up the staircase, which seemed almost ominous now that he knew the history behind it.

"I wonder what bedroom it happened in."

"I suppose it doesn't matter,” Seco said. “Mary Goore is gone by now. Spirits do not lurk for longer than they are welcome.”

But all three brothers had at least some knowledge of the occult, and knew this to be untrue.

-0-0-0-

Upon returning home that night, Helena found Primo already in the kitchen making dinner, with Terzo sitting up on the counter and eating the scraps. Seco was taking the evening off, as he had cooked the previous night. She walked over to the counter, hoisting up and settling beside her friend. The mushrooms, which had been lovingly grown and picked from Primo’s garden, looked delicious.

"Well, I guess it pays off inviting you three here, doesn’t it?"

"The least we could do to earn our keep," Terzo grinned.

“Says the man sitting around waiting for scraps like a dog,” Primo grumbled, before sneaking Terzo a taste. He was a little more lenient than Seco was in the kitchen.

"Good news," Helena said, stealing a sweet tomato that was supposed to go in the salad, "I've just hired two employees for the tavern."

"Good on you!” 

"I think this calls for a toast," Seco said, and lifted his glass. "One for you," he said, taking a drink, "And one for those two lovely girls in Vegas I'll never bed again," he finished, pouring a little for taste into the mushrooms Primo was sizzling up. Terzo frowned at him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Seco shrugged. "They were very good in bed."

"I’m sure they would fuck you again if you asked."

"Not after the hour of preparation it took."

“Then tell me would you, how that night was in any way fruitful for any parties involved if you could not even get hard?” Terzo demanded.

“I eventually got it up. They had a pillow fight in their panties.”

“ _A pillow fight_?! Could you _be_ more cliché?!”

“Look at _you_ , cavorting about running your mouth about female orgasms. You think that won you any points when you were single?”

“The last time I checked, women are pretty happy when they actually get to cum!”

“QUIET YOUR ENDLESS BICKERING!” Primo bellowed, then took a deep breath. “You are spoiling my mushrooms.”

"Alright," Helena cut in, "Anyone not useful, get out of the kitchen. Let Primo work his magic." Grabbing her phone, she checked her texts again. She was suddenly overwhelmed with an unexplainable sadness when she remembered she didn’t have Copia’s number.

God, she was crazy. She didn't even know if Copia liked her back, not _that_ way. Maybe it was time to find out. She sprawled out on the living room floor, thinking about when she would see him next. Maybe she would go see him the next day… prove to herself that that kiss really was a cleansing, that the chapter of her life with Terzo was closed and a new one was about to begin.

Nothing paranormal happened that night, just as nothing had the night before. Helena didn't feel any overtly hostile presence as she had before, and heard no loud creaking except for an errant rustle from the guest bedrooms. She knew from nights of what could only be described as adult sleepovers that Seco snored, Primo had a habit of yawning at ridiculously high decibels, and from when they used to live together, Terzo tossed and turned in his sleep until he found the perfect position. Throughout the night, all she heard was these individual nighttime habits, something that brought her a sense of comfort. The odd floorboard would bend a little, but that was easily explained away, and she even ignored the faint fluttering of her curtains before she fell asleep.

Then she woke up with the bruises. 

Helena frowned, inspecting her ankles. There were light bruises that wrapped around, almost as if someone had grabbed her hard enough to break the blood vessels. Settling back on the bed, she replayed the events of the night before. She hadn't done anything particularly rough... the only bruise she should theoretically have is the one on her knee from slipping the week before. But she hadn't felt anything last night. Surely, something strong enough to cause this would have caused her to wake upon contact.

Getting up suspiciously, she let it slide. She supposed it could have just been the way she was sleeping, or some freak thing where her vessels just decided to burst there. Her eye caught on something in the corner of the room. She frowned, and looked down at the floorboard she had found the journal under. Crouching down, she saw something glinting.

_Three gold coins, with a strange sigil on them: the inverted five pointed star, and an infinity symbol over it._

Treading downstairs, Helena slipped her housecoat on.

"You look disturbed," Seco commented. “Is something the matter?”

"Yes. She didn't wake up in Copia's bed!" Terzo called, walking out of the bathroom with wicked bedhead in his Count Chocula pajamas.

Helena just laughed it off, deciding not to tell her friends about the strange bruises. It would only rouse more questions and concern, and they became like protective older brothers when that happened. They all had better things to do than worry over her.

"I intend to rectify that today, Terzo," Helena said. She poured herself some apple juice. "I'm going to visit Copia after work."

"Oh, shit!" Terzo turned, and raised his eyebrows. "You want us out, or...?"

"No, you ass," Helena smirked, "I'm not going to invite him to stay. Not yet, anyway. I've still got to find out if he likes me well enough."

"You said he blushes around you?" Seco asked, "That is a sure sign."

"Speaking from experience, eh?" Terzo grinned. Seco turned to him.

“I have never once blushed in my life. The sure sign of affection from myself is when I offer to chain you up and drip wax between your breasts.”

“Romantic,” Helena nodded. Terzo looked up over his coffee.

“Does that cure your erectile dysfunction, brother?” 

Seco groaned. “I should never have told you about that.”

"The man next door will be lucky to have your company," Primo smiled, “As any man would.” Helena put a hand over her heart.

"Prim, I think you're going to make me cry with your tender words.”

"Chivalry lives on through me," the old man muttered, and caught Helena as she made a show of falling back into his arms. 

-0-0-0-

Helena rubbed at her ankles as she stood behind the counter, stacking glasses with one hand. What the hell were those coins, and how had they gotten there? She’d have to research the symbol on them. It wasn’t sitting well with her. Pushing it out of her mind so she could give her customers the attention they deserved, she shook her head.

She had come to love working on the rainy days. People were much more pleasant, curiously, mostly because there was a welcoming wood fire inside and it was getting colder as December approached.

"What can I get you?" she asked the man who came in, and he grumbled something in the way of, “ _Martini_." So much for pleasant people, then.

"Coming up." Once she had poured it, the man nodded to her, and downed the glass. He was a slender, graceful looking guy, with cropped hair and a thin face.

"Rough day?" she asked. He nodded, cracking his knuckles. 

"Rough year. There’s this guy who has everything I don’t. He’s with someone I frankly, do not see the appeal of, and what do I get for damages? A little shop from them, that I had to use my salary from years of savings to take." Helena's breath hitched. So _this_ was Rain.

"That... sucks," she tried, turning around and biting her lip. Usually she was better than this at consoling customers, but really, how could anyone dislike someone like Arthur?

"Yep," the man moped in reply, and Helena turned to refill the glass. It would certainly be awkward for Dev if he ever came in and saw her… though Helena would hate to be Rain if he did. This man struck her as a daytime drinker though, and Dev and Aeth alternated evening shifts.

“Have you ever given any thought to the fact that maybe… you and Dev just have different paths?” she asked, then caught her slip up. The man’s eyes snapped up, and she quickly corrected herself. “I mean. The man you’re talking about. Whom I don’t know.” Rain gave a heavy sigh, curling in on himself further.

“I don’t really care how happy he is. The point is, I’m not. Why couldn’t I be where he is now?”

“Are you sure you really know where he is? In life, I mean?”

“Sure. He’s happily married, and comfortable with himself. I was able to take one thing away from him—his job—but that doesn’t make things any better for me. I wish I had some kind of purpose. I’m a huge history buff, you know. I know all about this town, every little fun fact. Not like I could ever do anything with that. And here I am, alone.”

“Right.” She didn’t have much else to say, so she just offered him another drink. “That sucks.”

After Rain left, the day was quiet. It picked up around five, right before Helena got off for the day, and she met a few people who were considerably less depressed than Ryan Pluviam had been.

Following the path back to her street through the woods after work, Helena wrapped her arms around herself. The air definitely was getting colder. Stepping a little quicker, she gazed around. The woods were dark, the moonlight revealing darker shadows against the leaves and strange shapes with the branches.

_That was not the figure of a man standing behind that tree, it was only the darkness playing tricks._

She heard a twig snap, and started to quicken her pace, eventually into a run. She tried not to think about what could be behind her, but couldn’t help it. _What if it was him? What if it was Mary, come to mutilate her like he did his family?_ Ignoring the poor logic of it all, the blonde was almost sick at the thought of what being gutted might feel like. Even just death. She wondered what it felt like when her parents died. A scream rang out, and she realized it was her own as she slammed into someone’s chest.

“Please—” she began, unsure of what she was begging for or _who_ she was doing it to. She looked up a couple of inches, and saw that a very well-dressed Copia had caught her wrists, steadying her. 

“The second time I have caught you falling for me,” he whispered with a small chuckle, and she closed her eyes, exhaling her relief. He quickly let her go after making sure she was alright once again, and brushed off his white suit. He had a black fedora with a white strip on, and was carrying a walking stick. He looked like a handsome gentleman, and Helena had to fight not to swoon right back into his arms. He looks down. “I apologize for my little joke, cara. In fact, I must apologize if I have come off as inappropriate in any way—I did not realize you were involved.”

Helena searched his eyes, and frowned. “Involved? I’m not involved with anyone.”

“But…” He gestured over to her house weakly. “Your beau from the porch…?” He blushed red. “I did not mean to spy on you. I simply—” 

“You think Terzo and I are together?!” Helena shook her head, smiling slightly. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. Well, ex-fiancé. My ex. There’s nothing going on between us.” Copia looked doubtful, and Helena could understand why given the nature of the kiss he had witnessed. “Walk with me.” She took his arm, and they started a stroll around the lake together. “It gets confusing sometimes. Whether or not I still have feelings for him. I’ve struggled wondering if I made the right decision breaking things off with him since I did it. It got even more confusing when he kissed me. But he’s married, and I realized I’ve moved on. I guess that kiss served as the last one, just to get it out of our systems. It’s like after it, all the tension lifted, and I didn’t question it anymore. I’ve moved on. But sometimes you just… want things and you don’t know why, you know?” 

“I know.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, really.”

He shook his head. “I do understand. Love can be a complicated thing. I believe you never really stop loving someone, if they are still worthy of it. It just changes into a different kind of love, to better suit the people you both have become.” Helena raised her eyebrows, letting that sink in.

“That’s a good way of putting it, actually.”

“Of course, you have an inspired way of dealing with this new life of yours. Walking around your house wearing nothing to cover is quite freeing, yes?” Helena’s eyes widened, and Copia chuckled. “I saw. I promise I did not stare for long, though.”

“Why not?” she murmured, tightening her hand on his arm. He avoided the question. They approached Copia’s front door.

“So,” he smiled nervously, “Am I justified in assuming then that you’re not otherwise occupied with a lover?” 

“Otherwise occupied?” Helena teased. “Are you trying to find out if I’m single?”

“That’s my goal, yes.”

“As of right now, you’re right,” she said, smiling. “Speaking of, I was going to come knock on your door today, to see how you were.”

"You wanted to see how I was?" Copia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Helena said, then smiled. "I... I mean, I wanted to spend some time with you, as well..." 

"Come in, come in," Copia murmured, taking her hands and ushering her into his house. "It's freezing out here. Snow should be coming early this year, with this weather." Rushing over to the couch, Copia took the black velvet blanket that was draped over the side and wrapped it around Helena's shoulders. "Here, make yourself comfortable."

"Oh, I don’t need—”

"I insist," Copia smiled, gazing back into Helena's eyes, and for a second, she was speechless. He broke the gaze, heading off to presumably the kitchen, and Helena was left to study her surroundings. The inside of his house was considerably nicer than the outside. He had gothic furniture with lots of old antiques everywhere, including a piano, old instruments she couldn’t name, and four huge bookshelves filled with well worn texts piled high. It didn't look like he had a television, or a phone for that matter, but everything inside screamed _him_. Despite it being practically from a different century, it was a lovely space, a lair worthy of the finest fictional vampire. The fire was large and warming, and Black Sabbath was playing from some speaker buried somewhere under books.

“You don’t strike me as a rock and roll kind of guy,” she said as he came back from the other room.

“Oh, I am a full fucking metalhead,” he assured her, emitting that chuckle she’d come to adore, “I just happen to dress like Frank Sinatra.” He busied himself with something as she glanced around again at the paintings hanging on his walls. She recognized most of them. The Last Judgment. Fall Of The Damned. Triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony. So… Copia was quite literally a Renaissance man, albeit one interested in the darker side of history. He even had a Francisco Goya, like she did! This one was her favorite, one she could never find.

 _The Witches’ Sabbath._ It depicted women in a piled circle with a black He Goat at the head. Helena always found it beautiful. 

Her eyes eventually moved on to settle upon a wooden box in the corner of the living room, which she examined closer. It was large, about half the size of a crate, and it had something carved into it, a word beneath a star surrounded by a circle. An inverted pentagram. She remembered what Arthur had told her about the architecture of this town, and how everything revolved around Satanic aesthetic. Copia’s house must have been built in the same style. It _was_ converted from the old church that used to stand here. Her mind wandered to the coins she had found in her house, and wondered, if Copia was into all this demonology stuff, if he would know what it meant… she searched around, but found nothing that matched the symbol she had seen. Beneath the five point star on the box were three more symbols, and a word. An open eyeball. Something that looked like an ear, or an earlobe of sorts. And a straight vertical line. She squinted, tried to read the word… she took a step, and looked closer.

_Trinity._

And there, with dawning fascination, she saw above the pentagram a grucifix that matched the one tattooed on her arm. _Hadn’t Terzo’s father said something about his visit to this town being an inspiration for the band and its image?_ She wished she would have done more research into where the grucifix came from before being used as a musical trademark.

"Here! Before I forget. Some tea," Copia said. She startled, turning around.

“Oh! Thank you.” He handed Helena the warm cup and lead her over to the couch. She smelled the drink.

"Madagascar Vanilla. I enjoy sweet things, so it’s all I had. I hope you like it," he said, and Helena took a sip.

"Thanks. I look forward to seeing what you'll do to keep me warm in the winter, once it really starts getting cold."

"Hopefully something much more interesting than making tea." Helena looked up, and Copia's mouth opened. “I didn’t mean it… like that. Or, maybe I did.” He bit his lip, an action Helena fixated on. “I am shit at this.”

"It's fine," Helena whispered, "So am I.” 

"Somehow I doubt that," Copia huffed. "A beautiful woman such as yourself has probably had many admirers in the past." 

"I have," Helena nodded truthfully, "The word _admirers_ putting it lightly. Therein the problem lies." Copia tilted his head slightly, so she continued. "Nothing seems to work out for me. Like I said, I had a chance at a happy relationship, but it didn’t work out. Terzo and I stayed together because we were essentially the same person, and were comfortable with one another’s lifestyles. But that was my longest relationship to date. I'm just that girl that you go to for a fun time, you know?” Copia looked down, and dared to reach out for her hand again.

"Well, if it's any consolation, my dear… I think you're a lot of fun, and I haven't even spent the night with you." 

Helena laughed, and moved a little closer to him. "Copia, I've been meaning to ask. Would you like to come over in a few days? To watch a movie or something?" Strong emphasis on the _or something_. Copia's heart skipped a beat as he nodded.

"I would love that." 

He shouldn't be getting involved. They couldn't be together, after all. But Copia knew there was no going back, not when Helena sent him into this much of a dizzy spell whenever he saw her face. Judging by the way she was tracing little hearts into his palm, she felt the same way.

-0-0-0-

Helena poked Primo. "I need to borrow one of your movies."

"Mm?” He roused from a sitting nap. “Why?"

"Copia's coming over the day after tomorrow, once you guys are gone," Helena informed Primo. Seco looked up.

"Really?"

"I knew you could do it! Helena has got all the men wrapped around her little finger," Terzo said, wiggling his pinkie. Helena sifted through the collection of films.

“Would he like Cannibal Holocaust?”

Seco didn’t even look up from his phone. “He absolutely would not.”

“I don’t know, I know the guy, and it seems like he’s got a multifaceted personality,” Helena said. “I caught him listening to Sabbath.”

“Black Sabbath?” Terzo blinked. “Go ahead, then. Test out your theory, throw something terrifying on. If he gets scared, you can always use the oldest trick in the book.” He sat down next to Primo to demonstrate, and pretended to yawn, stretching his arm out. Primo leaned forward to pick up his reading glasses, missing Terzo’s arm, and leaned back against the couch, effectively crushing it. Terzo grimaced, snatching his arm back. “Hopefully he is less _fucking obtuse_ than that.”

“Little chance of that,” Helena laughed. "I just barely got through to him today about how I feel. Ended up blabbing about half my life, but if I haven’t scared him off with my life story, a movie’s bound to be safe ground. Maybe I'll go for something a little safer anyway, just in case. More romantic.” 

“Allow me to suggest it before Seco does: Fifty Shades of Grey!” Terzo said.

“I would never recommend that drivel,” Seco scowled. “That yuppie Grey knew nothing of proper BDSM etiquette. I could teach him a thing or two about respect, show him contractual obedience is the greatest gift a submissive can give; something to cherish, not take advantage of.” He gave Terzo a pointed look. “This time, I _am_ speaking from experience.”

Helena laughed to herself, imagining Copia’s face watching Fifty Shades. Though, she didn’t know everything about him yet. He could have a kinky side she didn’t know about. She picked up another title. “Vampires are sexy. What about Salem’s Lot?" Helena said, and Seco snorted. 

"That is not a sexy vampire.”

"It's better than Halloween Five, the Revenge of Michael Myers!" Helena spat, tossing that horrible movie behind her into the pile, "The fact that you even own that film is frightening, Prim." Seco nodded in agreement.

“An atrocity.”

Primo grunted in response. "I didn’t mind it.” Terzo recoiled in disgust.

"You are a terrible person, I personally hate you and everything you stand for.”

“Okay, brother. While you are up, could you fetch my tea?”

Helena sighed, setting the movie she had chosen on the table and thinking of cuddling Copia on her couch. "Well, you three leave tomorrow. That kind of sucks.” It really did. She didn’t want to be left alone with the noises again, but she had moved out here to be alone, and she was getting what she paid for. “What the hell am I going to do without your obnoxious voices filling the silence?"

“Fill it with your own obnoxious voice,” Terzo said. “Blast his favourite Sabbath song, lure him over here with your singing!”

Helena scoffed. “I think he’d want to move away if I ever started singing.”

"Hm. What are we thinking of doing tonight then, to celebrate our goodbye?" Seco asked.

"I've still got that old monopoly board," Helena said, getting up. "I could bring that down, see if Terzo is any better at managing money than he was when I left."

“It is a good thing my family is rich,” Terzo mumbled, laying on his back.

"Speaking of boards. Primo found something spooky," Seco said. Helena gave him a funny look.

Primo spoke up, frowning at how quick Seco was to make light of his idea. “While you were at work today, I went into town and found this old shop father used to talk about, with all these old antiques and occult items of witchcraft and mysticism," he told her.

“You said you were buying basil!”

"Hush, Terzo. I found something-- we do not need to use it if you don't wish to, of course-- but I felt it would be beneficial to explore, with the eerie occurrences you say you are experiencing. Perhaps to provide some clarity? I have always been a big believer in the spiritual knowledge one could gain from such a thing." Helena watched as the older man took something out of a paper bag, handling it with care. Immediately, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"There is no way I am using that thing in here."

"I thought you would be intrigued by the idea," Primo said, startled by her reaction. He began to put it away. "Of course, as I said. We don't have to." Helena balked. 

"It just seems stupid to use something like that when things have been... well, you know how they’ve been."

"I told him it was a horrible idea," Seco whispered, and Terzo nudged him. But as they put the board away, Helena began to wonder. What could it reveal about the noises she'd been hearing? If nothing happened, she could finally stop putting stock into bumps in the night, stop imagining she was being chased through the forest by some dead murderer. There were no ghosts, not in her mind, and if she could prove that through this dumb board...

"Wait," she mumbled, rubbing her temples. The others looked up. "Fuck it, let's do this."

It took about five minutes to set everything up. The board in the middle of the coffee table was arranged with all the lights out, two solitary candles lit beside them. Terzo wanted to throw on some ambient music, maybe “Spirit” from his latest album, but Helena threatened to knock him out if he tried it. 

When everyone's hand was on the wooden dial and the lights were out, Helena took a deep breath, deciding to take charge of this. She was going to end it, whatever _it_ was.

"Is there anybody with us tonight?" she asked, her clichéd words based solely on her educational years of watching scary movies. Silence, no movement. "Would anybody like to communicate with us?" If she was being honest, she felt stupid talking to nobody like this, given that she didn't believe in the supernatural; but she didn’t like feeling unsettled in her own home or unsure of herself, and she wanted to be absolutely sure this was nothing but a trick of her mind.

“Try again,” Primo encouraged softly, closing his eyes. Helena looked around at the light jumping up the walls, and the shadows the glow was casting upon the brothers’ faces. It made them each look almost ghoulish, like skulls surrounding her, waiting to welcome the vicious presence that lurked down her halls. She buried that imagery, and focused on making contact.

"Is there someone here with us tonight?" Helena repeated. Suddenly, they all felt the dial move just a little. It was inching its way up the board, and finally stopped at the "NO." Terzo’s eyebrows shot up.

"Stronzo’s got a sense of humor, eh?" he laughed, and Seco pinched his ear.

"Do not move the dial!"

"You were the one who called all of this bulls—” Just then, the dial shot over to the "YES" on its own.

"Nobody was touching the dial," Helena breathed, voice just above a whisper. Terzo and Seco stared at one another, then back down to the board with wide eyes.

Primo spoke with a calm voice. "Did you die here?"

The dial remained on yes.

“What do you want?” Seco asked, frowning. Terzo clung to his arm, and the elder of the two kept him close to comfort, like they were children again. He also took Hele’s hand around the other side of the board.

The dial moved to an H, but did not move any further.

"What's your name?" Helena asked softly, unable to stop her trembling hands as she hoped, deep down, it wouldn't answer. There was no answer for a moment, and silence filled the room as they waited. Just as they were going to try again, the dial slowly began sliding again. Helena covered her mouth. The dial stopped at _M... A... R... Y..._

"Mary," Seco hissed, "It couldn't mean..."

"Lots of people are named Mary," Helena whispered back. Everyone turned back to the board, where the dial was moving again. This time, it stopped at _G...O..._ "No," Helena whimpered, eyes watering, "No, this is... is there a magnet? Is one of you pulling a string? Is this..."

"Helena," Primo murmured, expression grave, "We are not doing anything to it."

_O... R..._

Helena reached out, slamming the board closed, and buried her face in her hands. Her heart was racing, as was everyone’s present. Terzo and Primo turned on every light they could, as Seco came over to her.

"It's alright, dolce ragazza," the middle brother said, sitting down beside his friend and easing her head into his chest. "It is alright now."

They all slept on the floor of the living room that night, setting up pillows and blankets like a camp out. There was no way any of them were walking up that staircase. Not with the wind so unbearable outside, and the thick, sulfuric scent of decomposition on the second floor.


	6. Chapter 6

"You are sure you can be by yourself?" Terzo asked, for the thousandth time.

"Yeah," Helena mumbled in monotone, "I'll be fine." It almost seemed as if the events of the night before hadn't happened. But everyone knew what had taken place was very real.

"I don't feel very good about leaving you alone after that," Seco muttered, brows knit sternly.

"I can't ask you to stay any longer," Helena sighed, wiping a hand down her face. "You've got your lives back in Stockholm, and I've made mine out here. You’ve got a spring tour coming you need to prepare for."

"Come back then," Terzo urged, "Sell the house, come on tour with us! Special will arrange something. You don't really want to stay here now, do you?"

"Yes, I do. You’ve also got a wife, Terzo. A wife you love, who’s waiting for you at home and probably wouldn’t appreciate me tagging along on your tour. I can’t just up and leave! I _like_ it here. Despite everything, I do. I've built a new life for myself, I could have a chance with Copia. I can't very well abandon all that now." Her ex held her hands, studying her face for a second, then looked down.

“La mia ragazza forte, he will soon see what a treasure you are. If your worries I know of are still present, I want you to remember you are more than your body, and if he is smart he will see this. If you like him, then you deserve a chance with him. You deserve the happiness that comes with someone who will wake up beside you. Do not forget that.” Terzo gave her a hug, and she kissed his cheek, bottom lip quivering.

“Thanks, Terz. You always know just what to say.”

"You're a strong woman, Helena," Seco said, rubbing her arm. "Stronger than you know. If I were Goore, I would think twice before paying you another visit.” Helena smiled a little. Seco went to help Terzo with his many, many bags, and Primo came over, tilting her chin up.

“You had better call if you need anything, dove. _Anything_ , you hear?"

"'Course," she smiled, looking up at him. The eldest pressed a gentle, comforting kiss to her forehead. With hugs given to all, she watched her friends turn. "Hey!" They looked back. "Tell the dancing queen I said hi!" she grinned, shaking her hips in reference to Tobbe Speciell’s ABBA obsession. They all promised to. Minutes later, she watched their car pull away, waving to them as they drove. A melancholy, sinking feeling filled her stomach. She hated saying goodbye to her friends.

It was alright, though. She had Copia. Everything would be alright.

Even with the new bruises that were forming along her arms.

-0-0-0-

"He came in here?!" Dev asked, making a repulsed face as he perched at the end of the bar like a gargoyle.

"Yes," Helena nodded, shooing him off the counter, "Went on about how much you had and he didn’t, and all that." 

"Of course he did, the fucking piss-brained little bitch." Helena couldn’t help but laugh at someone as tiny as Dev hurling insults like that. His fists tightened. "Oh, if I ever see that ass-kissing, twisted, bitter little fuckface in here, I'll rip him a new one. I'm sure black and purple would go very well with his _lovely_ blue eyes."

"Cross with someone, I see?" Aeth asked, coming in from where he was spraying the windows down and wiping them. "Who is it now? Hope it’s not me.” He looked legitimately frightened.

"It's Rain. He's been coming in here," Dev snapped, hopping down and rolling up her sleeves to clean the tables angrily. “I can smell his stupid cologne.”

"Only once," Helena assured, and Dev pursed his lips.

"Once is enough with that asshole." Helena raised her eyebrows.

"You certainly feel strongly about him. I don’t know, he just seemed depressed." 

"You have no idea what he's done to try and tear me down," he muttered, blowing long hair out of his face as she scrubbed a stain a little too hard. "I never want to see his idiot face again. I'm happy, he's not, so he's goddamn pissed at the world and I have to take the brunt of it." 

"Not anymore. Just ignore him, stompy," Arthur urged soothingly, kissing his husband on the cheek and wrapping his arms around the smaller man from behind. "He's nothing you need to worry about.” Dev huffed, tossing his towel at his husband. Arthur dodged it, and gave him an earnest look. “If he tries anything again, he'll have me to deal with. Yeah?" Helena smiled, watching them. It would feel like a dream to be in a relationship like that. She imagined Copia would be like this in such a situation, which got her daydreaming about their coming date that night. She went over everything she had cleaned that morning. Had she done the stairs? She had made the beds up nice—all of them, just in case they don’t stop to pay attention to which one they’re falling into.

"You in there, love?" Aeth asked, waving at her. Helena looked up.

"Sorry! Sorry, I was just..."

"Oh, I know that look," Aeth grinned, nudging his way over. "Who is it?”

"Remember my neighbor I told you about? Angelo Copia?" Helena smiled slightly. "We're... we've become... well, he likes me, and I like him... I think?”

Arthur elbowed Helena. "Is he any good in bed?!" Dev huffed, picking up the Windex and towel again to work on the windows. “That’s what you should have asked him when you first met.”

"I don’t usually have a chance to ask before I find out,” Helena hummed. “Copia seems like the gentleman type. He’s got an affinity for dirty jokes, though.”

“Oh,” Dev nodded, “One of _those_ types. Pretends to be a softie, but actually likes to suck toes.”

“Like me?” Arthur smiled.

“No, you’re just a dirty bastard, you make no bones about it.”

“Fair enough. I don’t have a foot fetish either.”

“It was only an example.”

“Well,” Helena said, “We haven't had the chance to sleep together yet, per say, so I don’t know what fetishes he might have. This is our first date, actually."

Arthur turned the open sign on. "Nervous?" 

"Somewhat, but after years of dating, as Dev would put them, ‘twisted fuck faces’, I'm ready for anything." She suddenly thought of something. “Hey. Devon, you’re a Satanist, right?”

Dev nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Well, there’s this box in Copia’s house—”

“Don’t open it, I’ve seen Hellraiser, do not open it,” Aeth cut in.

“It’s his sex toy box,” Dev said simply.

“It’s a _hell_ box, and I will have no part of it.”

“No, guys, no— it’s not like Pandora’s Box or anything. It’s big. It’s got a pentacle on it—”

_“What did I tell you?”_

“—And I don’t know what the word on it could mean.”

Dev raised an interested eyebrow. “What’s the word?”

“Trinity.”

“Means three. You don’t know what trinity means?”

“I mean in the context of the occult, asshole,” Helena growled. Dev smirked.

“That’s it? Just ‘trinity’?”

“Yep. Along with some other weird, hieroglyphic looking symbols.”

“Maybe he’s Egyptian.”

“He’s not fucking Egyptian.”

“Did you ask him?”

“For Christ sake, he’s Italian, and the markings are not hieroglyphics, they just look… picturesque!”

Dev thought for a second. “Well, with the word… it’s said that the devil uses the trinity to mock God’s holy three, or whatever, and keep him away. At least in the theistic branch of Satanism, which I personally don’t fuck with. Gods and monsters and devils and shit are bullshit. And that box might have just come with his house. This town is full of old Satanic stuff, because of the—”

“Old church. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Her mind darted again to the gold coins, but the question was caught on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what it meant.

Dev side eyed her. “Does the box make you want to bang him any less?”

“Of course not,” she laughed.

"Good, then it’s irrelevant. Just focus on the bed-breaking sex you’ll have tonight with this guy. It’ll happen," Dev counseled rather blatantly. “It sure did with Aether, after I whipped him into shape.” Aeth blushed. “Let's hope it's sooner rather than later for you, though. You look like a strung out hag." 

“Stompy!” Aeth admonished.

“No, he’s totally right,” Helena realized as Dev sashayed away guiltlessly to clean some more; she hadn't gotten much sleep since the incident with the Ouija board, and the thoughts of what might be lurking in her house plagued her in the daytime as well.

Maybe she could forget about it, just for that night. It would sure take one mind-blowing kisser to help her forget about that much… but she was sure Copia could rise to the task.

After she got home that evening before preparing for the date, she found herself eyeing the journal again. She had time to read a few more chapters. As if she was hooked, she opened the book back up eagerly, searching for answers that might put her uneasiness to rest.

_February 21, 1999_

_Mom n Dad bought me a guitar for my 23 th birthday. Pretty fuckin rad. This only makes me want my career in music more. I know I can do it. I just need some help. Thinkin about the church next door again (and the hot Satanic chik with the tits nd blonde hair.) Maybe she likes rockstars. Maybe shell like me. Im pretty fucking badass, ill be even more badass when Ive got a demon on my side. _

_Becca wants to hear me shred on the guitar. Better go make the little shit happy._

_-MG_

_March 3, 1999_

_Tonight Im gonna do it. Im gonna summon him. The book says hes gonna bring me riches and Im ready for it. I want it. The ceremony seems easy, Ill just wait for the family to go to bed. Mom n Dad go to bed pretty early so no big deal. Ill do it here in my room so Becca wont come snooping around and be a nosy fucker._

_Gonna rub it in her face when I get all this money from the demon. Maybe I can pay for her college of some shit.. she says she wants to study fashion of some dum thing. Shes good at that shit._

_O.K.. Time to get what I deserve._

_-MG_

_April 15, 1999_

_Shits getting weird.. sis feels like someones watching her at night. Mom and Dad keep blaming me for shit going missing but I didnt do it. What the fuck is going on? It feels cold all the time and I hear noises at night. Wheres all the money I was promised by this fuck?_

_Whatever I guess_

_-MG_

_November 11, 1999_

There was no writing. Only the sigil drawn in scratched pen, and the rest of the journal was blank.

Helena bit her lip, sliding the book away.

_Forget it. Tonight, you’re getting laid. No more dwelling on the dead._

-0-0-0-

The wind was strong that night, knocking Helena’s shutters against the walls of her house. She could hear a spooky owl off in the distance, along with the haunting melody of one of the sexiest songs she had in her list—Wicked Games, by Chris Isaak. Tonight was the first time the usually peaceful lake reminded her of the one in Psycho. All that was missing was a body in her basement—thankfully for her sanity, this house didn’t have a basement. Just an attic, that convinced her nightly with its creaking that a scene of ghoulish slaughter had or would take place up there.

A knock sounded at the door, and Helena checked herself in the mirror, making sure everything looked alright. She didn’t want to go overboard on makeup or fancy clothes or anything—if Copia had just seen her in her jeans up until now, then she must be doing something right, and she wasn’t about to fix what wasn’t broken. She blew a piece of hair out of her eye.

It was no lie that she wanted him, but she was always the one night’s stand. If this did just turn out to be a one-off, so be it-- she hoped it was a good one. If it was more… well, she could admit the idea of that gave her butterflies moreso than her usual casual rendezvous.

Hurrying down the stairs, she rounded the corner and opened the door. Copia was dressed in a black suit, with most of the buttons undone on a black shirt underneath. He had a bottle of wine in his hands, which he handed over to a grateful Helena.

"Ammazza! You've done so much with the old place!" Copia said, looking around. His eyes lingered on the staircase a little longer than customary, but Helena didn't think much of it.

"Thanks. It's become homey enough," she said, closing the front door and locking it. “I love how big it is, nothing like the place I used to live in.” It was late evening, and both were nervous about their first time spent together outside of friendly greeting.

“I think it’s beautiful,” he said, “The décor, everything. It very much suits you.”

Helena smiled. "I’ll go open the wine.” Wicked Games drifted from the living room.

She examined the bottle as she walked. It seemed very old, dusty, and the label was barely legible. He must have some kind of wine cellar somewhere under his place, with gorgeously aged bottles like this one. She looked forward to seeing the effect this particular one had on her.

Helena knew the effect _she_ had on people. She knew she could get Copia to do anything she wanted with a simple seductive glance, but despite that fact, she had uncharacteristic nerves about the whole thing. Maybe she just had a complex when it came to actually caring about someone as a partner, or maybe she was on edge, waiting for something unexplained to happen again in this godforsaken house of hers. Memories of the spirit board crept back to her, sending her jaw clenching and the tiny hairs on her arms pricking up. At least if anything happened, she would have yet another witness to attest to the fact that she wasn't going crazy.

Blowing her hair out of her face as she uncorked the wine, she growled a little. _Ugh_. She should have asked Dev for help with her unruly hair. He had long hair, and it looked luxurious as fuck.

Pouring the rich crimson liquid into the glasses, she padded back out to the living room, where Copia was sitting on the couch. Her breath was stolen. He had taken off his outer layer, and was left in a black shirt open on the chest with a button up vest over top, his hair lightly tousled. He looked so suave, lounged out like that, and she wanted to sink to her knees right then and there and make him moan for her, beg for her talented lips to take him. 

_No. Take it slow, see where this goes. If you really like him, it isn’t a sprint this time, it’s a marathon._

She took a deep breath, cooled herself down, and approached. “Hey,” Helena said, sitting down next to him. He smelled like bergamot and spice tonight, some kind of cologne that reminded her of a musky moonlit graveyard. Normally, graveyards didn’t smell this good, but she couldn’t help the imagery of kissing him in one. She turned the music off. “Here—this is a really good movie. Here’s your glass.”

“Grazie.” He glanced down at the title. “Salem’s Lot! Ah, I love this film. The Omen is my all time favourite, but vampires always get my blood running to all the right places.” He gave a low chuckle, and Helena felt that shiver again. So, maybe he wasn’t as innocent as she had perceived.

“Vampires turn you on?” Helena teased. So, her own silly fantasies of him had been correct.

“When you put it like that…” he laughed. “I have a fantasy.”

“Go on.” Her breath hitched as his fingers traced light circles just above her knee.

“I like to imagine myself off in a castle somewhere, with fangs and a cape, all of that. An unsuspecting creature comes wandering through my gates…”

She took a chance. “Like me?”

He exhaled, smirking. “As a matter of fact, I must say the woman in my thoughts resembles you.” He went on. “I welcome her in, but all I can think about is how sweet she tastes.”

“Her blood?” Helena breathed, hanging on his every word. Copia shook his head.

“How she tastes below, cara mia.”

Helena suppressed a moan, moving closer to him. _That_ was forward. Her hand found the buttons on his chest, and she fiddled with one as she looked up at him. When Copia didn't make the move to kiss her though, Helena gave up on the flirtation, and turned back around to face the screen. Although he did not kiss her, his hand found her shoulder, bringing her body closer to his as the movie played. She couldn’t get what he said out of her mind—the thought alone of Copia going down on her and enjoying it was enough to make her rub her thighs together.

“Are you comfortable?” Copia whispered to her later, looking down.

“Why do you ask?” she nearly moaned.

“You are fidgeting,” he pointed out. “I fidget when I am not comfortable.”

“On the contrary, I’m very comfortable here,” she said, running a finger up his chest. “You enjoying the movie?”

“To tell you the truth, I am not paying much attention to it.”

“Neither am I,” she said. Still, she remained in his arms, bodily contact limited to his hand rubbing up and down her arm and her head on his chest.

After about an hour, she realized she was drifting off, and by 11:18 at night, she also realized that they had done none of the things she had hoped they would by then. Their physical contact had also diminished.

"Copia," Helena sighed, covering a yawn. "This... doesn't feel like a date." Cringing inwardly, she hoped she hadn't offended him. Copia turned, fiddling with a fray in the couch.

"It doesn’t, does it?" he replied, leaving them in an awkward silence for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, Helena doubted everything. Maybe she had gotten them all wrong. Maybe she had imagined the chemistry they had, and when it came down to actually doing something about it, there was nothing really there but friendship. She had just been too forward. But what about all those things he had said? Talking about eating her out couldn’t just be a tease, could it? Friends don’t eat each other out, unless they’re feeling… very friendly! 

In frustration, she let out a little huff. As she was preparing to stand up and finally let the evening end however, Copia leaned over to cup Helena's face and place his lips over her own. His lips felt different than she had imagined: softer, taking his time to cherish her own. Helena let out an appreciative noise as Copia’s tongue ran across her bottom lip, seeking entrance, and his hips nudged hers a bit, coaxing a moan out of her. Her hands roamed down to the small of his back, and she shifted her weight so that she was sitting on his lap. She felt Copia twitch in interest beneath her. She parted her lips to deepen the kiss, allowing Copia to delve deeper into her mouth, and she buried her fingers into his hair, effectively tousling it more. She felt the scruff of his mustache tickle her upper lip, and he emitted a low growl as he finally broke for air.

Breathless and heaving, both looked at one another. "Where were you hiding _that_?" Helena asked incredulously, chest rising and falling in a way Copia just couldn't ignore this time.

"I suppose I haven’t had much occasion to do that prior to this evening, have I?" he asked, tracing his hands down her curves. Helena shivered pleasantly under his gaze—the darkness in his eyes startled her. He looked hungry, as if he wanted nothing but her in that moment, and her body begged him to take what he wanted.

Just as she was expecting him to return his attentions to her and devour her as he had promised, the darkness in his gaze lifted, and the soft emerald seemed to resurface from beneath hooded eyes. He stood instead, gently moving her off of him and lending her a hand to rise with him. “It’s getting late.”

_The dreaded words._

At Helena’s searching gaze, he looked down, smoothing his hair back and calming his breathing. “I… can see that it is unfair for initiating such a thing and just getting up to leave not a minute later, but, eh… delayed gratification can be a beautiful thing, heh." Helena was still a little shell-shocked, so all she could do was nod as she walked him to the door. After he had thanked her for her hospitality and everything else the stupid perfect gentleman _would_ do, she realized she couldn’t be alone… and not for the usual reason.

“Copia,” she murmured, catching his arm, and he turned back as she wrapped her arms around him, “Will you stay?” Looking down at Helena, how coy she looked, how delectable she seemed with her eyes bleary, her lips swollen and those blonde curls askew. It made him truly realize that she was something he couldn’t have. Not tonight, anyway.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, and left a lingering kiss on her hand before leaving. Helena stood there, dumbfounded and even more depressed at the fact that she was too bloody tired to take care of whatever was going on with her body at the moment.

 _Tomorrow._ Tomorrow she would decide if this whole thing was as big of a failure as she was. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning: Slight allusion to non-con in a dream sequence at the beginning of this chapter.

Leaving a single candle burning on her windowsill, Hele slid under the covers, already half asleep. Attempting to bury her feelings cocktail of shame, embarrassment and rejection, she focused instead on the scent of her candle, and the plush of her pillow. Stroking a hand along the fabric, she lulled herself into a deep sleep.

_Helena opened her eyes. She felt like she couldn’t move her legs, but after a moment of trying, she got her toes to wiggle like some sick version of Kill Bill, Volume One. She moved to get out of bed with no real purpose, and walked toward her door. That’s when she heard it. The scraping downstairs._

_She looked around. Her house was dark, but not in the usual nighttime sort of way. Everything was darker—the paint, the furniture. Even the dark corners seemed black as the pits of hell as she wandered out into the hallway. It scared her, but it was as if her fear was paralyzed within her, some opposite force keeping her sensible mind sedated while it propelled her body, like a zombie, to walk on._

_She felt like calling out someone’s name. But whose? She didn’t have anyone to call. She lived alone. There was no one here but her, and whoever was making the noise. She kept walking toward it, walking as if she couldn’t stop herself. The scraping got louder, louder, her mind’s eye concocting a billion different horrors making that noise that she would happen upon once she turned the corner onto the staircase. But as suddenly as it had started, the scraping stopped, and there was no crazed madman lurking on the steps. There was no hulking monstrosity ready to charge and snap her neck. From what she could see, there was no spectral shape either, blinking eyes at her from the creeping darkness as it closed in and smothered her. There was nothing—nothing to be afraid of but her own imagination._

_All at once however, a miasma of sulphur stifled her senses. Like a split second snap, her breath was stolen, and her fear soured into pain as she felt, like poison through contaminated veins, blood seep and drip and gush from her midsection. Horrified, she looked down, to see a knife covered in gore at the center of her stomach. Instead of the withdrawal of the blade she anticipated however, she felt it twist deeper, further protruding from her body so that she began to feel her own blood drip down to her toes._

_“He-elp,” she croaked, “Copia…?” She felt a grimy hand wrap around her neck from behind. Cold breath on the back of her neck told her she wasn’t alone, and the knife wasn’t her imagination._

_“No scraps tonight, huh? I can smell your disappointment,” a man growled behind her. “I can smell that scent, H, like a bitch in heat. I think I want some of it. If Copia doesn’t want any, I guess it’s up for grabs, right?”_

_Helena felt disgust crawl up inside her with the ethereal tendrils of whoever was speaking. She knew who it was. She didn’t want to turn around to make sure._

_“Lucky for him, I guess. You’d just be sloppy seconds after charmer there almost took you to the sack when he came to visit.”_ Helena knew who it was—it didn’t stop her lips from parting in shock. _“Oh—you thought I’d fucked off when they were here? We had so much fun with the ouijia board, H. Charmer’s not bad. I watched him while he slept, too. I bet he was digging tunnels with you back in the day. I bet you screamed. I’d like to hear you scream ‘til your vocal chords rip and tear, and you gurgle on your own blood. How does that sound? Like a fantasy? Better than you getting your pussy pounded by your old friend—maybe his brothers too, huh?”_

_Helena felt sick. She knew none of the things the disembodied voice was saying were true—she never had any cause to feel ashamed of her sexuality, and she also knew Primo and Seco would never do what he was suggesting—but his words were crass, and coming with such vitriol from the entity? They felt like stab wounds, opening up wider with each verbal laceration._

_“C’mon. Rot,” the voice snarled, voice so rough and hateful that it made her already shaking body convulse. “Rot with me, H. Share in the riches of Hell. All you gotta do is let me in.”_

_She looked to see the blade replaced by her own intestines spilling, but they turned into the gold coins. She looked up as gold coins spilled onto the ground and filled the floor around her in mountains, to see the sigil on the coins painted in her blood on the wall. She screamed and screamed until her own voice sounded like the presence behind her. The voice contorted again as her own insides were wrapped around her, causing her to choke on her own blood. “Love, Mary.”_

Helena jolted awake, clutching at her chest and stomach as she struggled to breathe. Thankfully, she soon discovered air came easily, and she relaxed a little bit back into her pillow. It was morning. The sun was out. She wasn’t bleeding to death, or at the mercy of a knife. She closed her eyes again, and sobbed for a good long minute until she had exhausted all her tears.

After catching her breath and collecting her thoughts, she looked beside her to grab her phone. The diary had disappeared from Helena’s nightstand. She suspected Mary had something to do with that—in fact, she was sure of it. The Ouijia board probably didn’t help... maybe that was what let Mary into her dreams. She reached for her phone to distract herself.

_So how did it go???_

Helena read the text from Terzo to their group chat. Oh, shit. Oh, yeah. Last night had been the date with Copia, and everyone knew about it. The events of last night came back to her, piece by piece, replacing her violent dream. Reading the names in the chat, Helena grimaced. She felt dirty. The feeling someone got when they had a weird sex dream about their professor or something, then had to face them.

 _Alright,_ she forced herself to type back, yawning as sunlight poured into the room. She forced the dream out of her mind for good.

Terzo messaged back _. Go on then, get off your phone. Pay attention to the hot piece of ass sleeping beside you!_

 _Wake him up with a blow job. It’s a polite gesture to say thank you for the fuck,_ Seco messaged _._ She looked beside her to the empty sheets, and sighed.

Helena: _He didn’t stay the night._

Terzo _: Explain???_

Helena _: It was weird. He was so sweet, like he always is, but like… too sweet, y’know? He wanted me to be ready I guess._

Terzo: _Were you?_

Helena: _More than! It was like a slip and slide down there, I wanted him to frickin raw me!!!_

Helena _: But he didn’t seem to get it. Maybe we’re just not good together, idk_

Seco: _Some people wait to bond before sex, it is common._

Helena: _But he was acting super sexual! I feel kinda lead on_

Seco: _Give him one more try. Perhaps he was too intoxicated to perform, as I assume you liquored him up as soon as he walked in._

Terzo _: Or perhaps he has difficulty getting it up, like my brother :/_

Seco _: IT WAS ONCE YOU LITTLE SHIT_

Primo: GOOGLE VOICE SEARCHHOWTO TRIM THE HAIR BEHIND THE SCROTUM WITHOUT CASTRATING ONESELF 

_Terzo took a screenshot._

Seco: _Update us soon on the situation, Hele. I must go untie my pets._

Helena wasn’t even going to ask—she knew Seco didn’t mean any dogs, and she didn’t feel like laughing at poor Primo over his technological mishap today. Rising from bed, she felt a sharp pang of discomfort around her lower stomach, and lifted her shirt to find--

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and practically ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. There were bruises all the way up her ribcage, and a few on her neck as well, now that she looked more closely. _How the hell did those happen?_ she wondered, suddenly alarmed, _it’s not like Copia choked her last night_. Did she have some sort of circulatory condition? A disease, maybe? Should she get it checked out?! 

_The dream._

“No. Calm down,” she whispered to herself, examining the bruises one more time, “This is not an Elm Street situation.” She assessed everything. She didn’t feel lightheaded, save for the panic. She wasn’t dizzy, or exhausted, or even aching. Only the tender skin around the bruises hurt. It was a strange thing, but as she checked her clock, the only thing that worried Helena in that moment was the fact that she was fifteen minutes late for work.

“So?!” Arthur shouted, heading over to her as soon as she came in, “How did our night go, love? Punched in 20 minutes late, I reckon it was a good old time.” Dev walked over calmly, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Did he fuck you on all fours until you passed out?”

Two people at a nearby table looked up, and Dev glared ominously at the poor patrons, daring them to complain. Helena really wished everyone would stop asking her about last night, even though that was unfair. She had to grin and bear it, just like the rejection she felt. “It wasn’t bad,” Helena said slowly, and Aeth raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, this can’t be good.” Devon was shaking his head adamantly.

"He was terrible in bed, wasn’t he?”

"No, not exactly."

“Oh, god.” Aeth nodded knowingly. “Didn’t make it past the lips, did you? The face ones, I mean.”

Helena let out a frustrated groan, and Dev collected her, taking her over to the bar to sit. “It seems like you did something wrong, because guys always put out, right?” He shook his head again. “Nuh-uh, not the case. This guy over here?” he jerked her thumb over to Aeth, who waved back, “Didn’t give me any until he was "sure" he loved me."

“Hated to disappoint, gremlin, but I honestly didn’t feel it until our fourth date.”

“Fourth date,” Dev repeated with wide eyes, “Do you know how many weeks that was? I was pawing at his zipper like an animal, going feral for just a taste of his dick. He’s lucky I have long fingers and had an arsenal of lubrication to burn through.” The same two looked up from their table again, and this time, Dev gave a long lick of his tongue their way. “All good, all good. I didn’t mind waiting. Much.”

“So… I still have a chance?” Helena asked, and Dev rolled his eyes.

“Of course! It doesn’t always happen on the first date.”

“It does for me.” She sighed. “I know he doesn’t owe me anything. It would be fine if he didn’t want to—there’s nothing wrong with that at all—but it really seemed like he did, and it feels like I messed something up, but I don’t know what! I’m just not used to this, and it’s fucking with me.” The words Terzo had told her in parting echoed in her mind: “ _You are more than your body.”_ Maybe she was just selling herself short. If Copia wanted to wait, why did she still feel like she screwed things up? He obviously cared for her enough to show her he _would_ wait. That just made her feel even worse, that she was making such a big deal of this.

“Hey, hey now, love,” Aether came to sit on the other side of her, sensing her distress, “By what you’ve said about the bloke, he sounds like a shy thing. It shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise that he was a little nervous to let you have it all the first night, yeah? Besides, you're a knockout. _I'd_ sleep with you.”

"Interesting, seeing as you turned down my request for a threesome with the librarian two months ago,” Dev snapped.

"That librarian scares me, stompy!"

“And I don’t?!”

“I just..." Helena huffed, "I feel so embarrassed! I can't imagine what I must have looked like, pining all over him and making a fool of myself, begging him to stay. I even shaved for him!” Dev cocked his head sympathetically—or with as much sympathy as he could muster. “Now he probably thinks I’m a slut.” She sighed miserably, collapsing against the tavern counter. Dev gave a long, pained look before wrapping his arm around her shoulder in an embrace.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a slut. In this tavern we celebrate sluts, don’t we? I’m a slut, you’re a slut, Aeth’s a slut, she’s a slut,” he pointed to the woman at the table, and that was the last straw—the two finally got up, dropping the tip and leaving in a huff. The small, sassy man waved a dismissive hand, then turned back to Helena. “Besides, he doesn't think anything of the sort, not a guy like that. I know the type. I'm sure he'll be back before you know it." Helena nodded, and a few more people came into the tavern, swinging the doors open and starting the late morning rush.

A great many hours later, Helena was left alone in the tavern, dying candlelight in the lanterns the only illumination for the finally-empty place. It had been a busy day, and Helena had been glad for the business. Word certainly did travel fast in a small town like Svavel, and word had obviously carried that Langager’s Tavern was a worthy place to visit for a good time. Ryan Pluviam hadn't paid a visit that day, thankfully. But he was the least of Helena's ponders as she flipped the open sign to closed. 

Should she offer her apologies when she got back home to Copia, for coming on too strong? Or should she wait for him to come over, in fear of seeming too attached? Maybe she should write him a letter, and slip it under his door. No, that would be weird. But he liked all that old timey stuff, didn’t he?

The door jangled open. Arthur and Dev had gone home hours before, so it couldn't be them back for anything...

"So sorry, we're closed up for the night," Helena started, turning around, and put a hand over her chest at the startling sight of her neighbour. "Copia," she breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked around, but there was nobody in sight but him. They were all alone.

"Helena," he said, coming in. "May I have a word?"

At first, she felt frozen. Then her emotions bubbled up. "Copia, I'm so--"

"Please, before you say anything; I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I was impossibly rude last night. I lead you on, _turning_ you on, teasing but never following through. You invited me to stay, you expressed your want for me, and I... well, I..." Helena walked out from behind the bar to be closer to him, "I scurried away like the little rat that I am."

"You didn't run away," Helena assured, "Sex isn’t everything to me, I hope you know that. You were being a gentleman, showing me that I didn't need what I thought I did--"

"You and I both know what you needed," Copia murmured in her ear, voice coming out in an unexpected growl that sent Helena shuddering, "And Satan knows I should have given it to you for as long as you needed it." Helena exhaled shakily, eyelids fluttering at Copia's hand on her back.

"Copia, you don't have to... to feel obligated to..." she tried to articulate, but she couldn't finish her sentence as his green eyes, darkened again, found hers, their faces inches apart. She still wanted him. Bad.

"I thought I was doing what was best for you, being a gentleman. Instead, I left you wanting, and that… that is not what a gentleman does.” He traced a finger down her shoulder. 

“I really don’t...” She lost her train of thought again, staring at the tongue that swiped over his lips.

“Please. Let me make it up to you," he whispered hoarsely, and taking Helena's moan as consent, picked her up and held her against the wall as their lips crashed together. Helena's eyes closed, hands clawing at Copia's back in an attempt to hold on. She kissed her way down to his neck, sucking lightly on his exposed collarbone. She listened to his groans, felt him as he pressed his clothed erection against her stomach. Just the feeling of it pressed against her was enough to drive her wild. He enveloped her lips a second time, desperately. Seconds later his fingers were at her zipper, but she put a hand to his. 

"Not here," she whispered breathlessly, and took him with her after he set her down, locking up and practically running their way back through the bramble. The path back was a dangerous one. In the dark, anyone was liable to trip over a branch or a rock, especially when they were locked at the lips and blind to their surroundings. But they made it back alright, up to Helena's porch where she fumbled her keys in the lock before letting them in. 

Hastily, Copia's lips were on hers again, both discarding their jackets as Helena led them backward up the stairs.

"Which room?" he murmured. 

“The last one on the third floor.” They kissed their way up the stairs, but lost their breath at the second floor. Copia led her by her hand until they reached the bedroom, where she kissed him again like she was starved for it, hands coming up to touch his sideburns. He let out a strangled moan, walking her backward to the bed, and they fell atop the mattress together. Hele’s hand slid down between Copia’s legs, and she cupped him through his pants. “How are these so impossibly tight?” she smiled against his lips.

“I have to pour myself into them. All to impress you with my, eh... my junk.” Despite herself, Helena snorted.

“Well, survey says, you’ve impressed me.”

“Now you get to try and peel them off of me,” Copia replied. She gave him a little spank on the ass, moving to do just that, and he seemed to like that. She finally got his pants off, as did he with hers, and left in their underwear, they kissed back onto the bed until they were both properly on top of the mattress. She found herself on top of him, holding his wrists above his head and grinding into the sizeable bulge in his underwear—waves of pent up arousal washed over her at the first slide of his cock against her panties.

“I want you to fuck me,” she moaned, flipping her hair back. “So bad. I want you to make me cum on your cock, Copia.” She was a little surprised at her confession—it felt odd to say the least, to say what she had said so many times alone with herself in this very bedroom these past weeks. But she was no stranger to dirty talk, so she rolled with it, squeezing his hands tighter. He groaned, hips jerking up, but he was tired of their game of bump and grind. He took the power back, rolling them over so that he was on top. Helena looked up into searing eyes as he maintained contact. She felt him reaching down, assuming he was getting his cock out. Instead, his fingers fit into her panties, and he pulled them down with practiced ease, sliding two into her. “Oh, _yeah_...”

“Is that good?” he purred in her ear, curving his fingers. “Do you want another?” Helena whined, wiggling her hips down in anticipation and nodding. He pressed a kiss beneath her ear, sucking a deep mark there. “I want to hear you say it. Say my name.”

“Please,” Helena gasped, “Copia, fuck, I want it. Please, I want another…”

“Good girl,” he purred, adding a third finger and beginning to rub her clit gently with his thumb. Feeling warm, full and stretched, Helena was overcome again by the overwhelming wave of arousal, made more persistent by the clenching of her inner muscles. “Did you touch yourself like this, thinking of me?” His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, but Helena can barely register it. “Called my name while you used your fingers on this cunt? Inside…?” Copia’s fingers pumped in and out slowly, crooking deep inside her with every careful ministration of his wrist. “Did you cum hard, again and again, to the thought of me taking you? Making you mine this way?”

“I… mmm.”

“Where is all the wit you approach me with now, hm?” he teased, “You have fallen so silent for me, cara.” It was true. Nobody had ever rendered Helena quite this speechless, especially not in bed. She was vocal as fuck—but now, all she could eek out was a gasp. “That is alright,” Copia continued, his voice like honey, “When I take you over the precipice for the first time, I am certain I will hear something.”

From his words and the stroking of his fingertips along her walls, Hele let out a cry of his name, nails digging into his back as her toes curled and she saw white. Mouth open and breath ragged, she met his eyes again, the attention he was paying to her g-spot prolonging her orgasm. When she was easing down, he removed his fingers with a soft sigh and a muttered Italian term of endearment, and licked them clean as if he was enjoying a treat. From the sight, she felt the sensation build again. With a shocked gasp, she wrapped her legs tighter around his back, and came again, rubbing herself down against his bulge for friction. Copia raised a pleased eyebrow, lips turning up. “Just from watching me enjoy the fruits of my labour, eh?” His lips returned to hers to swallow her replied moan. “You taste better than the sweetest treat I could enjoy.”

She reached down to grab the perfect love handles he seemed to fret so much over, desperate now to feel him inside her. He helped her, pushing his underwear down to allow his swollen cock to spring up between them. He was leaking pre-cum, obviously from imagining what his cock would feel like where his fingers were. She moved a hand down, and bit her lip as she wrapped a hand around his swollen member. It was heavy, bigger than a fist could cover, and she stroked him a few times. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone this bad,” she whispered, and the confession made Copia growl. He stopped her hand, taking his own cock to guide between her thighs. He paused only to hook both of her legs over his shoulder, and he got on his knees, teasing his length between her folds, up to her clit and down again.

Two can play at that game.

Still on her back, Helena rocked her hips down, just enough to take only the head inside, squeezed, then left him. His eyelids fluttered, and he let out a high pitched noise. “You like being teased like this?” she asked, spurred on by the pained look on his face. “You talked a big game while you fingered me. Now, you just want to fill me up, don’t you?” She moaned.

“Yes,” he breathed, entering her by an inch, “I want to feel you around me. I want you to never let go, I never want to forget what it feels like when you _cum on my cock_.” She finally shoved herself down onto him all the way, and he fell forward, grabbing the bedpost as he was buried to the hilt. His primal urges took over. With a low chant of her name, he rocked the entire bed with the weight of his thrusts, filling her with remarkable urgency. “You like to take it?” he whispered. “You like my cock?”

“I love it—”

“Ohh…” He groaned. “That thing you are doing… that’s— _shit_ , do it again.”

“Co—opia, I don’t even know what I’m d…!” She cut herself off with another moan, one that evolved into a gasp when Copia dragged his nails lightly down her stomach. Neither knew what the other was saying by the time Hele felt the warmth spread again, but she wasn’t ready to cum just yet—and neither was he. 

As Copia pulled out, she went to sit up, and he went to turn her over. An awkward chuckle later, they figured out their tangled bodies, and she got on her side, Copia fitting behind her. He slid back inside of her with ease, the stretch making them both moan. His nimble fingers tangled in her hair and tugged. “You like that?” he whispered in her ear. She’d never really thought about it. Could she be considered kinky? Terzo had certainly been kinky, and she had learned a few new things about herself in bed from him. But yeah… she decided she did like this, especially when the man behind her was at the reigns.

“Yeah, pull my hair,” she purred, “Show me who I belong to.” He lost it. His grip tightened, and his hips slapped hard against her ass as he chased their mutual pleasure. “Fuck, fuck,” she hissed, reaching back to hold onto his thigh. He reached around to cup her breasts, kneading them.

“How is this?” he snarled in her ear, “You like to get fucked like this? You like this cock, hmm?” His breath was hot against her ear, and she began to feel her climax approach. “Take it. Take me so good, bellisima, my beautiful little one. I enjoy fucking you so… your moans turn me into a creature of carnal lust I cannot control.”

“Copia,” she whined, and for the third time, she came around him, his pace unrelenting until he had ripped every last shiver from her body and left her dripping wet with release. This time, he felt wetness soak his thighs as well, and closed his eyes. He had made her squirt for him, and that turned him on beyond belief. His hips slammed into her a couple of thrusts more, then slowed down to deep, thorough rocks of his hips. As she felt him getting closer to his own climax, she switched positions, out of his clutches and up. Breathless, he watched her sink back onto him from on top and work a move so talented he almost shouted her name. She leaned down and kissed him hard, grinding down and swivelling her hips, and his hands flew to grab her ass as he finally felt the tug of his orgasm start to swell.

“I’m… I have to… I’m cumming, Hele—” he whimpered, hips jerking up. Watching his face as he emptied himself deep inside of her, she thought she’d never seen a more angelic expression on a man’s face when he came. Unfortunately, she had to stop staring sooner or later.

She rolled off as Copia huffed a short breath, and as if a natural reflex, immediately went to cuddle into him. Copia was a little bit surprised, but he welcomed her into his arms, holding her tight to him as their chests rose and fell in sync.

Moonlight streamed through onto the foot of the bed, and the open window let in sounds of the crickets and lapping of the lake. They lay there quietly in Hele’s bedroom enjoying the ambience. Despite their state of contentment, sleep did not come easily.

"You said..." Copia began, trying to muster up words as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "When we spoke in my house, you told me you had a chance at a happy relationship, but it did not work out. What happened with your ex-boyfriend?" Helena was silent for a few seconds, so Copia retracted. "I’m sorry. This isn't the right time to ask something with such—" 

"No. It's as good a time as any," Helena smiled, snuggling up closer to him. "Terzo is a very close friend of mine. We'd liked each other since I saw him at one of his concerts.”

“A singer?”

“Rock star, more like. Terzo Emeritus.”

Copia’s breath hitched a little. “Emeritus?”

“Yeah,” Helena glanced at him. “What, you know him?” There was a long pause that followed her question. 

“The name, it simply sounded familiar.” Copia exhaled. “Please. Go on.”

“What was supposed to be a one night’s stand with a groupie for him turned into…” She sighed. “I don’t know, something more. I saw him again, met his family, got close to everyone he knew. For a while there, we really did think we had something. But life got in the way. I changed as a person as I finally came to terms with the death of my parents, and my feelings toward him got completely skewed. They eventually disappeared for a while.”

“What happened to your parents?”

Helena looked out the window. “They disappeared on a tour on some vacation they had taken. I was in my first year of university when it happened. The whole tour group had gotten lost, apparently. By the time I graduated, their bodies had turned up… then I was little orphan Annie, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, but the sympathy thing is unnecessary. For the most part, I’ve put it to bed. I was already a young woman when I lost them. I knew them for as long as I needed them… I keep them with me every day in some small way. Anyway—it didn’t help my relationship that Terzo was under stress from his own very much alive father, who was obsessed with him having children so he could keep the family name going. Terzo’s brothers were getting past the right age for that and neither of them married, so he was the last one left to try. And we did try. But…” Helena blew hair out of her eye, putting her hands behind her head. “Anyway, I couldn’t. It felt like there was something coming at us from all sides, and at first it was us against the world, but there’s only so long you can maintain that crap. We started bringing out the worst in each other, and before we destroyed everything we had, I took a step back and suggested we forget that anything ever happened between us."

"And did he forget?" Copia asked softly, brushing his fingers in a soothing stroke down her arm. Helena hummed, watching the moon outside.

"I don't know," she mumbled, "But he's with someone now, and we’ve healed old wounds."

"Do you miss him?" Copia asked, bracing himself for the answer. He remembered what she had told him before, but this was heart to heart. Helena just took a deep breath, shaking her head.

"I used to think that I did. But I've moved far past that part of my life. I'm happy, Copia. And it may be a little early to admit, but I'm even happier with you in this moment than I ever have been." Copia rolled over, and kissed her again. She reached up to hold his wrist where he was cupping her face, and the pad of his thumb stroked over her cheek. A deep feeling of melancholy settled into him as he opened his eyes and looked at the woman before him… he could pretend for the time being. “Hey…” she finally asked. Her heartbeat increased. “Do you know much about, like… demonic sigils?”

Copia seemed surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“Just, the paintings in your house and everything. Do you know what an inverted pentagram with an infinity symbol over it means?”

Copia was silent for a long time, so long Helena began to wonder if he fell asleep. He spoke eventually, in a low, flat tone. “Mammon. The demon of Greed.” Before Helena had a chance to ask anything else, he went to get up. "I think I hear the shutters banging downstairs. Perhaps I should go close them, so it doesn't keep us up," he said, reluctant to go. Helena's eyes slowly moved over to the door, knowing for certain she had closed the windows earlier that day.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him back. "Wait... don't go down there." Copia saw the fear flash in her eyes and frowned, so Helena just made a show of it, batting her eyelashes. "Please? The bed'll get cold without you."

Copia simply nodded, relieved he didn't have to go downstairs after all. Helena closed her eyes, relaxing under the warmth of the covers with him. She was unwilling to entertain any other thoughts of anything that may have been watching them.

-0-0-0-

The next morning, they had tea and breakfast together. They continued to have breakfast together after every night Copia spent at Helena's place. The sex was ridiculously good—Helena marveled constantly at what he was hiding in those tight pants. Over the Christmas holiday, Helena missed her friends, but she spent most of the time with Copia, the man visiting her home for the better part of December. They grew even closer, and if it made Helena’s heart melt that Copia showed up on her doorstep on Christmas morning with a small box of cookies he had baked, she didn’t tell. Now that January had come around, Helena hadn't seen or heard anything from Mary Goore and his haunting, and it was lifting her out of the rut that had made her question moving out here. 

_The asshole is frightened,_ she grinned to herself one morning, _he knows I've got Copia in and out of the place, and he’s not gonna dare try anything._ It pissed her off a little that it took someone else hanging around to stop the ghost. She wasn’t normally an easy target, and she hated that in this context, she was. The bruises had been a bit of a scare, but it had been weeks since any more appeared. She was wary to write anything off, but she could at least relax a little more at home. 

Dev and Arthur had been ecstatic over the news about what Helena called their “arrangement”, and they had gone for lunch to celebrate, to none other than--

"Devon?" Ryan stuttered as the three walked through the doors of the sandwich shop. He adjusted his shirt, slicking back his hair. "What a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Treat my _ass_ , Rain, I've come to stuff my face," Dev snapped, "Careful, I might just eat you.” Rain’s eyes widened a little, and Dev stomped right up to the counter. “I’ve also gotta tell you something." Helena and Aeth looked at one another, bracing themselves for the firestorm, and Dev went off. "A person whom I have come to call a friend of mine has found love-- yes, that's her right there, her name is Helena Langager— and _that_ , you obsessive prick, has inspired me to come and tell you that I am tired of you measuring yourself up to me, I am tired of your constant need to outdo me, I am TIRED of the jealousy and the negativity coming from your inability to find your own purpose outside of me. _Fuck_ off once and for all, you insecure little scrub!" He caught her breath, tied his hair up, and smoothed out his Behemoth t-shirt. "I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for, but you won’t find it where you’re looking. Also, we'd like three orders of the Sacrificial Goat Fries, with root beer."

Rain blinked tears away, and turned, walking back to the kitchens silently. Aeth raised his eyebrows. “Look at that. You’ve made him cry.” Dev hopped onto his lap, a satisfied smile on his face.

"He had to hear it sooner or later. If he doesn't get the message after that, I don't think he ever will." Arthur nodded, and Rain brought over their order, quickly hurrying away afterward. Arthur took a bite, and frowned, glancing over his shoulder.

“Wonder who he’s got working back there. My fries were better than these.” The conversation soon shifted to the matter of their celebration: Helena and Copia.

"It’s too bad you didn’t stay longer at work that night,” Helena said, “You could have finally met him.” As she thought to what their activities had devolved into before she locked up though, she thought perhaps it was a good thing they didn’t.

“We’ll catch him next time. I’m sure he’ll be back lots now!” Aeth smiled.

“So what does he do with his dick that’s so good?” Dev asked shamelessly. “I may have to take notes.” Arthur crossed his legs.

“It’s unexplainable,” Hele confessed, sighing as she pictured it. “It’s just… everything, you know? He knows exactly what I like, and if he doesn’t, he learns.”

“He’s a keeper,” Dev nodded.

“I’ll say.”

“And to think, just a few weeks ago you were wondering if he wanted to sleep with you at all,” Aeth nudged her across the table. “Now he’s a bloody sex god!”

Dev lifted his glass. “To getting dicked down, and the second best couple in Svavel."


	8. Chapter 8

"I've got some small news," Terzo grinned over his beer at Swiss’ bar. “Trivial, but ehhh….”

“What is it?” Seco sighed, ashing his cigarette. Whenever his brother had good news, everyone had to stroke it out of the dramatic man.

“It is nothing, really…”

“Oh my dear brother, it must be something good,” Primo smiled wryly. “It must be something so beguiling that you invited us out for drinks and actually offered to pay for them, knowing it will be such good news we will offer to pay for the drinks instead.” 

Ignoring the eldest’s cynicism, the youngest brother broke into a grin. "Ira is expecting."

"Already?!" Silas shouted, leaning into the table and smacking his shoulder a little too hard. "Damn, you two trying to set a record or something, jack?!" Terzo laughed.

"What can I say? I think when you love someone, you should fuck a lot!”

“Well. You will be the first of us. Father must be happy,” Primo said.

“Father was the first one I told—he is very happy, yes. He likes Ira a lot, and he's been looking forward to grandkids ever since... you know, ever since Helena and I tried."

"I am going to be a zio? An uncle?" Seco blinked, eyes wide. Primo looked extremely pleased.

“This is wonderful news, Terzo. My warmest congratulations. Let me buy you a—” He frowned. “Oh.” 

“Molto gentile da parte tua, zio Primo, thank you!” Terzo looked nervously over to Seco, who was still in a state of shock as if he had just been told _he_ was the father. “Secondo?” the youngest asked, in a small voice that reminded the elder of when they were kids and Terzo would come into his room during a stormy night. This snapped him out of it, and Seco regarded his little brother with a rare expression of pride. He put a gentle hand behind Terzo’s head and rubbed.

“You will make an excellent father, fratellino. Il migliore.” Terzo felt tears prick his eyes, and he nodded in genuine thanks. The three brothers fell into silence, drinking quietly as the elephant in the room was avoided.

"Have you told Helena?” Primo finally ventured to ask the question.

"Not yet,” Terzo managed a smile. “I’m sure she would… that is, I see no reason for her to be upset.” 

“No,” Primo shook his head. “No, of course not. I simply mean… she will be very glad to hear of such a thing.”

“Will she be an auntie, of sorts?” Seco asked carefully.

“I do not know,” Terzo admitted truthfully. “I would like her to be. But I have no idea how Ira feels toward Hele, and I don’t want to… you know, rock the boat by bringing it up.”

“Yes.” The brothers got quiet again, and Seco brought her up again. "How do you think she is faring?”

"Ira? She is moody, she wants pickle chips and vanilla ice cream and nothing else, I am talking insatiable fucking cravings and not the kind that benefit me—”

“ _Helena_.”

“Oh. Well, her house is a little, eh… batshit."

"But other than that, she seems to be doing okay by our correspondence, no?” Seco frowned. “It felt wrong to leave her there alone.”

“That has been bothering you too?” Terzo asked, shaking his head. Primo sat forward with a sigh.

“It has been weighing on my mind as well. But we must remember, Hele is a… what’s that expression? A force to be reckoned with. A spirit may tamper with her mind, but it is not as if she is being stalked by anyone who can seriously hurt her.”

“That is true,” Seco nodded.

“But what if…” Terzo pattered his fingers. “I don’t know, what if she…” He gestures, “Starts to unravel, you know?”

“If there was ever an emergency, we’re only a phone call away,” Primo reminded her.

“Like you know how to use a phone,” Terzo muttered.

The door to the pub opened, and Sara walked in from the cold outdoors with Tobbe. “Babe!” Silas called to her from the back cheerfully. “Come gimme a kiss!”

“Gimme a beer, and we’ll talk,” she retorted, rubbing her mitts together. She sauntered over with the leather jacket-clad Swede. “Hi, boys.”

“Sara.” Seco nodded. 

“Sit, sit!” Terzo said, clearing space, “Let me buy you a round. We were just celebrating my wife’s pregnancy. I am going to be a proud Papa!”

“Congrats,” Sara smiled. The two took off their winter gear and joined the others, and Silas came out of the kitchen like Tiana from Princess and the Frog, balancing two beers and a plate of lantchips between them. He set the two drinks down in front of his girl and Tobbe, and as promised, Sara planted a big kiss on his lips. He laughed, and hung out beside her, setting the bowl down and grabbing a chip. Tobbe reached for the next one, heaping some roe onto it, and bumped his with Silas’ in cheers.

“We were also discussing the matter of Helena’s haunted house,” Seco said.

“Haunted?” Sara deadpanned.

“How exciting!” Tobbe grinned through a mouthful of fish eggs. “Like real ghosts? Like, _brllrflflrrrlr_?!” He made an outlandish noise while wiggling his fingers spookily. Sara raised an eyebrow.

“Special, are you okay?” 

"She's just been seeing this spooky guy all over the grounds," Terzo explained. “Mary Goore, is his name.”

“Was his name,” Primo qualified. 

"Okay. So what’s she still doing there, man?" Silas asked.

"Are we not going to question the legitimacy of that ludicrous evaluation?" Sara asked calmly, but Silas ignored her.

"Dude, I don't know what you've been putting in those smokes to think she's got some happy haunt, but she's obviously got a stalker! Why the fuck is she still living somewhere some guy is creeping on her?!"

"You've got me," Seco shrugged, opting to leave out the Ouija board anecdote.

"We tried our best to get her to move back," Primo told him, "But she was adamant she stay for the man she met next door."

"Her neighbor, eh... Costas... Copulate..." Terzo mumbled, snapping his fingers in frustration as he reached out to his brother.

"Copia." Seco rolled his eyes.

"That’s him. Very nice guy, she says. They're getting serious, and she absolutely refuses to leave."

Tobbe paused stuffing his face to chug down some beer and lift a finger. "Well, I for one am happy for her. I assume then, that she won't be too reluctant to move out of the Exorcist house soon, and in with uh... Copulate, next door?"

"One would hope," Sara sighed. Silas turned to lift his chin at Terzo.

“So, about your baby. You two got any ideas for names?”

“Not yet. We will know when the time is right,” Terzo wiggled in his seat. “Apetta un minuto, I need a puff. I am getting _irrequieto_.”

“You are always fidgety,” Primo said.

“Touché.”

“Ah,” Seco warned, clutching his pack tightly as the younger made a move on it. “Why don’t you ask Special for one of his for a change?”

“Because his are cheap, and taste of soil and lead.”

“Soiled lead, more like,” Tobbe nodded. Sara made a face. Seco glared at his younger brother, and Terzo groaned.

“Cazzo, it is my last one, I promise! I am to be a Papa—I must set an example for my glorious future progeny.”

“For that reason alone, I’ll allow it,” Seco said, “If only to celebrate the fact that you will never ask again.” To his left, Terzo imitated him like a snooty mime, rolling his eyes.

-0-0-0-

The moon was high in Svavel, the crickets around the lake louder than ever on the chilly December night. The reeds by the lake weren’t the only thing sighing.

"Do you know what time it is?" Helena asked, giggling.

"Three in the morning. Irrelevant, when you look like this," Copia whispered, planting kisses over her naked stomach.

"How are you so- _ahh_ \- nocturnal?!" she sputtered, biting her lip as Copia added another finger.

"It is a gift."

"And you've got many of those," Helena laughed, Copia silencing her with a kiss to her core. "Now make me cum so I can go back to sleep."

"So demanding," Copia said. 

"What? You don't think I deserve it?" Helena teased, wriggling around to get him to move again.

"You always deserve it, my pet," he murmured back, parting her legs further. She reached one hand down to bury in his hair, and the other one dug into her pillow. Copia’s tongue darted out in a long sweep down her folds, and she clenched in anticipation.

“I wanna ride your face.”

“Later,” he murmured up, mock irritably, “Leave me to my meal.” She giggled again, and he chuckled as well, sending vibrations through her. His nose grazed her clit, and her laughter was quelled by a moan.

“Fuuuck, you’re good at that. Is there anything you can’t do in bed?”

His head popped up for air, considering this. “I’m not very good at wall sex. My thighs you see, they are very strong. I eat well, I exercise, so they are nice and strapping.” 

“Yes...”

“My arms though, they are not. They are just spaghetti,” he informed her, “I would drop you on your ass if I were to try and fuck you like that.” More laughter tumbled out of her mouth, and Copia’s grin widened. He loved hearing her laugh. She tugged his skewed hair again, reminding him of his current preoccupation, and he went back down, slowly laving his tongue up and around her clit. His moans grew as his tongue worked its way down, dipping just barely inside of her and curving. He then went a little lower still, and paid attention to the bit of skin there.

“That tickles,” she giggled. He hummed, and flattened his tongue a little, moving back up to slurp at her like she was the last drink on earth. He seemed to get more and more into it the more he tasted of her, his obscene noises of pleasure only increasing in volume. Helena could feel the mattress dipping, and noticed that Copia was jerking himself off against the sheets while licking her. Her orgasm fast approached, and she arched off the bed and tugged his hair as she was brought to the edge.

“Do that again,” he rasped, “Tug my hair, just as you did.” She repeated the action, and he rutted against the mattress for stimulation as she ground herself down into his mouth. He latched onto her clit to suck, and she came hard holding onto him. Copia looked up again, hair disheveled and mouth slick with her wetness. She was taken by the sight.

“Good boy,” she surprised herself by whispering. “You like it when I take control, show you who you’re serving?” She’d never said anything like that in bed—she’d always been the submissive. His hand moved faster, stroking himself toward completion to her words. Although she was ready to fall asleep, she went on. “You’re so good for me, licking my cunt like that. You love the taste so much? Dirty little rat… getting off on the taste of my juices all over your face. You look like such a fucking slut.” He jerked himself even faster, wrist tugging and neck straining as his body went rigid.

“I’m a slut,” he panted, half to himself, “Yes, tell me I am one, cara. I love to taste you, oh—” His groan was pitiful, and Helena, lazy from her own orgasm, reached down to use her feet on him. She massaged his balls as he gasped out his pleasure, cum spilling over his fist and dripping down his wrist onto his stomach and her ankles. Sated, Helena lay there, falling in and out of sleep. She stared at the man with the cum stained mustache on his knees halfway down her bed, and marveled at all the things she thought she wasn’t into, that she obviously was.

Copia came down from his high, resting back on his hands. Helena tossed the panties that were hanging from her bedpost at him.

“Here. Shower in the morning.” Copia took the garment, and began to dry himself off. Once he wasn’t as sticky as before, he looked up to see the blonde halfway to passed out. "Mm…. move in with me," she mumbled blearily, but fell asleep before she could receive an answer. Copia stared down at her, watching her drift off.

The next morning, Helena was practically glowing as she roused in bed. It was a dismal day outside, flurries already beginning to fall over the lake, but it was alright, because she could feel Copia sitting at the foot of the bed. The indent of his weight on the bed deepened as she felt his grip on her ankles, holding her tightly.

"Hmmm. Morning to you too," she mumbled blearily, not fully willing to open her eyes and succumb to the day yet. She felt the grip tighten. “You’re sure making up for my dry spell. You know, it should be me, going down on you… waking you up with a good blow job, after your efforts last night.” She moaned as the grip got even tighter around her ankles, scooting up the bed to get comfortable. “But hey, I’m not complaining. You’re the first man I’ve met who will gladly eat me out twice in 24 hours, unprompted.” She got no response, so she just let him continue. The grip on her ankles tightened even more, and her hums turned to a moan as she parted her legs even more for him. The grip began to feel painfully tight, but she trusted the man holding her. "Mmmyeah, keep... go higher, what are you doing hanging around down there? I wouldn’t mind another…" she whispered, but when she reached down to lace her fingers through his brown hair, she felt nothing. Her eyes flew open, and widened at the empty room. She practically fell out of bed.

"Copia?" she called frantically. _Okay, calm down_. _Maybe it had been him. Maybe he was hiding under the bed or something, feeling playful._

"Down here, cara! Making tea! The vanilla, alright?! I brought some over!" he called up from the kitchen, and Helena whipped around. _What was sitting on the bed, pulling her down?_ As she peered out into the hallway, her hand flew to her mouth, barely stifling a piercing scream as she fell back against the wall. At the end of the hall stood the figure from her dream, grinning salaciously and advancing toward her.

“COPIA!” In seconds, Copia was up to the third floor, crashing into the room. Helena held her hands up, beating him off of her. “No! No! Let me—let me go!”

"Helena! Helena, it’s me! What’s going on?!" he asked. Helena’s brown eyes slowly opened, searching behind Copia for any lingering sign of Mary.

"There was someone," Helena started, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pointed, "He was... Copia, he was standing right at the end of the hall, it was him, it was... it was...” She swallowed, gathering her wits. “You didn't... you didn't see him when you were…?!" Copia ducked his head back out to the hall, searching the hallway, but returned after finding nothing. 

"I promise you Hele, there is nobody here but us," he told her softly. He lifted his hands when she began to protest, humoring her for assurance. “What did he look like?”

“He was pale and thin. Dark hair, bangs down the middle of his face, covered in blood from where he was…” Helena noticed his expression wasn't nearly as startled or even as surprised as it should have been. "Copia. Do you know something about this house you haven't told me?" she asked, wiping her eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to come up with some good cover story again, but found he couldn’t this time.

"The history of disturbances here are well documented." Helena wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. 

"You've been wary of this place ever since you started seeing me. What do you know that I don't?!"

“I…” he muttered, looking out the window.

“You knew."

“Helena—”

“You knew all about the Bloody Mary murders. You knew that Mary Goore was still in this house, and you didn’t warn me!”

“You knew about the history when you moved in,” Copia retaliated, somewhat fiercely.

“I didn’t know I had just become roommates with an evil spirit, Copia, that much you could have let me in on.”

“Oh, yes. 'Welcome to the neighborhood, the house you just spent your life savings on has already been occupied by the murderous ghost of a troubled twenty-something, I say you should head on back to wherever you came from and forget this entire thing'.” Helena huffed.

“Don’t patronize me.” Copia sighed, anger dissipating. He tried to take her hand in his.

"That was not my intention. Listen to me—I _wanted_ to tell you Helena, when you first moved in. But I didn’t have the heart to, for your safety, you must see that.” Helena suddenly turned, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“How? How did you even know about this place, or him?”

“Legend, I suppose.”

“Don’t give me that. You know more than most, it's obvious. How?” Copia shifted awkwardly. He looked almost guilty.

“I… Helena, there are some things I can’t… I can’t tell you—”

“This has something to do with that thing in your living room, doesn’t it?”

He looked surprised. “What?”

“The box with the pentagram on it.”

“A pentagram is for protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“More _for_ something.”

“What do you _have_ to protect?”

“Well…”

“And what about the symbol overtop of it? The upside down cross with the three-quarter circle?! The grucifix I’ve got on _my_ arm?! _”_

He began to flounder for words like a fish on a hook. “I… eh…” He couldn’t come up with a good answer, so he looked at Helena desperately instead. 

“Get out of my house.”

“Helena, just come with me, now, please, you _can't_ stay here any longer." Suddenly, Helena heard her phone go off downstairs. "Don't," Copia said, putting a hand on her arm pleadingly. Helena glanced back at him, jerking her arm free of his grasp, and went after her phone. She wasn’t sure she could even trust him now, with what he had been keeping from her. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him at the moment.

Upon rushing downstairs, she found her cell buzzing as it normally would.

"Yes?" she answered without bothering to check who it was. Relief washed over her that her phone really had been ringing, and she hadn’t just imagined it after all this. 

" _Hey, H,"_ a crackling voice said, “ _It’s me._ _Get rid of him. He’s not what he says he is, you know that. I’ve been keeping his secret.”_

“Who is this?” she whispered, but she knew the answer. 

_“I’m so much more fun than him.”_

“Leave me alone, Goore!” she cried.

 _“Soon you’ll be draped in cerecloth, like the rest of them. If only you’d let me in… you could bask in riches, just like me.”_ The voice devolved into something of a ominous laugh, and Helena dropped her phone. She watched as the battery blinked all the way from an 85% charge to entirely dead.

Beating a fist into the wall, Helena clenched her jaw.

"That's it! I'm not going anywhere. Are you listening?! This is my house, and you can't make me leave!"

" _Oh, on the contrary..."_ came the chilling voice from her battery-drained phone, "— _I never want you to leave_. _Your guts would look gorgeous all over the walls. Just like theirs did."_ Helena let out a gasp, kicking her phone so hard the screen cracked. Copia hurried down the steps. He saw the state she was in, and knelt down to pull her in for a hug. She resisted, and Copia read her loud and clear: he couldn’t help her. 

-0-0-0-

Helena decidedly lived with the occasional bumps and disturbances for the next week, but had since changed her phone number after receiving two more calls. One of them said, “ _Great that you decided to stay, H. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other,”_ and the other outlining how much fun whoever it was would have with her ‘loyal dog’ if he ever came over again. She had to assume that meant Copia, which unnerved her to the point of finally disconnecting the number. Not that it would make much of a difference, when it came down to how the messages were getting through.

She had to remember to email all of the guys back in Stockholm with her new number. She remembered Terzo’s email effortlessly, but the others were a little harder, so she’d have to check her contact book.

For now, she hadn’t visited Copia, and he hadn’t overstepped his bounds by visiting her either. It was a strange, uncomfortable sort of limbo that Helena didn’t enjoy—and it was showing. Her lack of sleep over all the things Mary had said to her and the absence of Copia’s presence in her life was giving her dark circles, and her jeans were getting a little baggier too. It was hard to conceal her personal life, no matter how hard she tried.

The blonde smiled at the new customer who came into the pub and sat down, masking her exhaustion well. "Afternoon. What'll it be?"

With an order of a rum and coke, Helena turned around, pouring it almost mindlessly. Her life was like a vase, broken a long time ago into little tiny pieces. Each time she thought she had glued it back together to resemble something nice, something else would come along to smash it. Now, her dream job was a routine, a routine she couldn't break in fear of upsetting everything she had built for herself. She wondered why she was so attached to the idea of this happily ever after here when it was evident something had plans to throw a wrench in all that. Maybe she should just move back to Stockholm.

"Helena," she heard, and nearly jumped as Aeth took the overflowing glass and liquor hose from her hand. "Go sit down, hm?"

"I shouldn't, we're just getting busy," she tried to object, but Dev came over as well.

"People are starting to look, babe. You don’t seem too good.”

Aeth put a soothing hand on her back. “I think a rest is in order. Won’t take no for an answer, I’m afraid." Unable to protest any further, Helena let the Northern Englander lead her by the shoulders to the back, where Dev continued with her out to the little picnic table they had set up for breaks. Thankfully, he took a seat next to her as well, draping a jacket over her shoulders.

The shorter of the two, jacketless and unaffected by the chilly air, pulled out a mickey of Fireball whiskey from his back pocket, and set down a shot glass he’d pulled from under the picnic table. She eyed his little set up.

"Is that our top shelf Fireball?" Dev slapped down his tip money for the day.

"Not anymore."

Helena smiled, and slid his cash back. "Enjoy. I could use a little too." He poured her a shot first, and after she tipped it back, he poured his own fiery drink. Unable to offer more consolation apart from getting tipsy on the job, he was relieved when his husband came out to check on them.

“Head back in stompy, I’ll see what’s up,” Arthur whispered to Devon, giving him a kiss on the top of the head, and with a kiss to his taller man’s lips, Dev headed back inside with a halfhearted wave Hele’s way.

"So. Is it Copia?" Aeth asked, spreading his legs over the bench, and the blonde shook her head.

"Sort of. Well-- no. He's been a perfect gentleman through this whole thing," Helena sighed, closing her eyes, "Which is what makes it so hard what he did.”

"Did he cheat?”

"No."

“Yeah, I was gonna say, there’s not many people you can cheat with here, eh? You pregnant?!"

Helena had to chuckle. "No Aeth, I'm not pregnant," she told him, “That would be the most improbable thing since moving here, and that’s saying something.” Then the man’s eyes took on a darker light, his usually sunny expression dimming.

"It's about the house, isn't it?" When Helena didn’t answer right away, Aeth took it as confirmation. "I knew it. Nobody should live in an awful old place like that. Even Dev and I wouldn’t live there, even as the price dropped year after year. No one local in this town would take it.” He shook his head. “Ah, the minute you told me you had moved into that place, I knew it was a bad idea. You know the story, don't you?"

"Of course I know the story," Helena murmured miserably, holding her head in her hands.

“Senior year. Halloween night. My sister Camilla and our friend Monty and I were out after a night of fun. We decided to go into the house for a few hours. You know, we were drunk, stupid, and wanted to say we went into the spooky old haunted house,” Aeth qualified. "Anyway. We spent all of about five minutes in there. The things I saw, Hele…”

“What did you see?” Helena dared to ask. Arthur hesitated.

“Well, we didn’t _see_ anything, per say— but Cami still has the scar from where he tried to get her. Weird coins and shit all over the floors, too.” Aeth shook his head, unwilling to elaborate. “That’s why when you came here to Svavel announcing you had just moved in, Devon wanted nothing to do with you or that house. He was a bastard about it, I know… but I was wary too, love. We all are here. We all know what happened there, and we don’t want it to happen again.”

"I've seen Mary Goore with my own eyes, Arthur,” Helena suddenly blurted. His eyes widened.

"What are you still doing there, then?" he asked. "You're in danger, Helena, and if you know what he did to those people—"

"There’s something fucked up. At first I didn’t think it was all Mary, but that doesn’t make sense. Of course it’s him. I’m seeing sigils of this demon, but it’s Mary fucking with me, I know it is." Helena snapped in a sudden flash of anger. “The man is dead, he's dead, why can't he just _stay_ dead?!” Her voice echoed a little into the open woods behind the tavern, and she drew back a little, feeling guilty for taking it out on her friend. A moment of quiet passed. "I’m sorry. I'm sorry, Aeth. But he’s gone. He can’t hurt me if he’s dead.” Realizing that sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of the fact, she sighed. “I'm just scared. You have no idea how utterly terrified I am of my own home and what's in it. That's not normal. He wants to kill me. And I thought of leaving, going back to my apartment in Stockholm. Believe me, I’ve been this close. But I can't leave now-- I _can’t_. I know he'll go away if I put all this behind me. I can make him." Aeth looked at Helena long and hard, and accepted defeat.

"You're about as bull headed as my husband," he complained. “Listen. If you ever need a place to stay, _ever_ , Dev and I’ve got a shoddy little bungalow a few minutes outside of town. It’s not much, but it’s home. It's only a few years old and I built it, so no spooks to speak of, and we've got a spare bedroom with your name on it, love."

"I can't thank you enough," Helena smiled weakly. "Really, for everything. I’ll keep it in mind."

“Whatever you need to do. I'll be inside then, yeah?"

Helena sat there, listening to the nearby bustle of the town and the chime of the nearby occult shop. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his face; that disturbing smile. That voice from her phone still haunted her. Thankfully, when she had kicked the device, it had only been cracked on the surface, so it still worked. Going without communication right now would be the worst thing for her. Still, she had refused to touch the thing ever since it had been... compromised. The door chimed again at the nearby shop, and she finally looked up in curiosity. That’s where Primo said he had gotten the Ouija board, wasn’t it?

The door chimed once more as Helena stepped in. She took in her surroundings— it was a quirky little place, with rustic décor and lots of hanging crystals. Small animal bones lined the dusty windows, and books piled high in the corners about Alistair Crowley, carnal rites, ritual practices, and homemade remedies. The rug below her was black, as were the painted wooden walls. Sigils populated the ceiling. Her style had always been gothic; she felt right at home in here.

“Are you here for the owl heart?!” a voice burst out from behind her. Helena jumped, turning around and clutching her chest. Looming over the front desk stood a tall, wiry man with darting eyes. He was slightly hunched, but still stood taller than Hele could in heels. 

“Uh…” she blinked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh,” he said, putting his hands up, “Oh, forgive me. I thought you were someone else.” He quirked his head. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“I’m new around here,” she smiled. “Well, not new. I’ve been here since summer. But you’re right, I’ve never come in here.”

“Of course I’m right, no one ever gets past my eye in here. In fact, just a few weeks ago, another man came in here whom I’d never seen before. Yes! Strange fellow.” Helena wondered how a man like this could call anyone else strange. “—Yes, strange, very strange, tall like me and looked like the skin was melting off his very bones!”

“That happens to be my friend,” Hele shot back.

“Ooh,” the man grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, “How was the Ouija session, then?”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to chat,” Helena sighed. “I just wanted to peruse your shop.” 

“Yes, yes, very well. By the way, in case you were wondering, I’m Ben.” He gestured to the instrument on his desk. “They call me Bell, or Cowbell around here.” Helena shook her head. People really _did_ have weird nicknames in this town. But, she wasn’t about to be rude.

“Nice to meet you, Bell. You must really like Blue Oyster Cult.” 

The joke went right over his head. “This was my father,” he whacked a sepia portrait of an older man behind them who looked almost identical to him, holding the very same cowbell. “He owned the place before me, and met this famous singer guy, Nihil Emeritus. The Emeritus family used to visit a lot. As did his father. And his father’s father. His father’s father’s father. His father’s father’s father’s father’s—”

“Great, I’m just gonna—” Helena jerked a thumb behind her to the door, and Bell put his hands up.

“Wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off—usually it’s the items in here that do that to customers.” He offered a good natured chuckle. “Please, please take a look around. I’ve got a book to read, anyway.” As per his word, he sat down at the desk, picking up a book called: _How To Master The Elusive Cowbell._

Helena just smiled softly at the offbeat guy. She walked along the back shelves, picking up a bottle of something black and shiny. She looked through the books, and began to get an idea. What if she could find something in here that could banish spirits? She looked back to the front, where she was hesitant to approach the man again. But, necessity outweighed the hassle. She approached, and noticed a framed photo of Bell’s previously identified father standing with a familiar face, a young man with shaggy black hair. Both were smiling, giving devil horns, and a plaque underneath read: _Nihil Emeritus, of the Band Ghost. Visited shop Oct. 13, 1974. Groovy!_ Jesus fucking Christ. Helena blinked at it, and turned back to the man.

“What can you show me that gets rid of evil spirits?”

Bell looked over at her. “Exorcism?!”

“Well… it’s not for a demon. It’s just for a ghost.”

“You’ve seen a ghost?!” Bell exclaimed, rushing out from behind the counter.

“Fuck, haven’t you?! You run an occult shop!”

“I am a theoretical man, miss. I know the theory of such things, but have never had the pleasure of experiencing them.”

“The pleasure?” Helena snorted. “Stay a night at my house, and you’ll sure have the pleasure of the greatest nightmare you’ve ever had.” She immediately cringed—imagining this guy in her house all night was an even worse nightmare. “Dude, just… what have you got that can banish ghosts?”

“Here,” he walked out to the back, and dug around until he pulled out a solid black book. “This bad boy was donated after the tragedy.” Helena was about to question this further, but was distracted by the symbol similar to the pentagram on the front of the book.

“Now I don’t want to mess with the devil and shit,” she told him in warning. “I’ve had enough of sigils and coins and—”

“Coins?”

“Forget it. No devil shit.” 

“No, no, no! It’s for non-demonic entities, spirits. It will get rid of them! The spells in here are very powerful, trust me.” She nodded. Mary was a non-demonic entity. She had his diary after all, he was a man before he was a spirit. She didn’t know why she kept seeing that sigil, but she got the feeling it was Mary trying to mess with her. “There are some chapters in there that chronicle how to _invoke_ demons, but ignore those. You’ll want to focus on spirits, and banishment.” She was about to head back to the cash with him for the book, but stopped when she found one with the same thing carved on Copia’s box.

“Bell, can you tell me what this means?” she asked. She set the book down in front of him, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Yes! Yes, I can tell you what that means, yes.” He reached for some spectacles with one lens missing, and squinted at it. After a second, he decided he could see better without the spectacles, and tossed them over his shoulder. He opened the book. “Trinity. This is a book of spells invoking demonic assistance.”

“Oh. Like making deals with demons and stuff?” Helena asked, heartbeat beating a little faster. _She was reluctant to listen to a vengeful ghost, but maybe Mary had been right about how duplicitous Copia was._

“No, no, no. No. More like…” He made wild hand gestures. “Uh, invocations of the corporeal sort, bestowing a certain, specific type of power based on a particular grievance or transcendence of what is real, what is natural.” Helena nodded slowly, as if she had understood any of that.

“Right. That makes so much sense. And, the pentagram? It’s a symbol of protection, right?”

“Not this,” Bell shook his head adamantly. “Oh no, not this. It’s inverted—see? Inverted solemnly. An inverted five point star points downward for a reason. No protection there—just a whole hell of a lot of help from Stan the Man.” He chuckled, then shrugged. “I mean Satan, of course. I call him Stan. Not that we’re on speaking terms. I don’t know him.” 

“Right,” she sighed, getting out the money for the books. “I’ll take both of them. Thanks.” 

“Anytime! Hey, friend—would you like a free crystal?” He offered her a chain, with a beautiful black gem dangling at the end of it. “This is really something here. It belonged to one of those old priests who lived in the spooky old Church here… eventually over the years found their way into my little shop, along with some other trinkets. I want you to have it. You’re… kind of the only person who’s asked me anything useful. Feels nice.” 

Helena gave him a smile, and accepted the small gift. “Thanks. You do you, Cowbell.” She slipped the dainty chain around her neck.

As she left, she thought hard about Copia. It was sketchy, all this pentacle, pentagram business. Although, it wasn’t the strangest thing to be interested in. So, he was into the occult! He was a little eccentric and spooky, she knew that. Just thinking about him and the fight they had had, made her heart ache. She didn’t want to return to that lonely feeling she felt months ago without him. But first thing was first—she had to take charge of her life like she said she would, and get Bloody Mary out of her house.


	9. Chapter 9

As Helena walked through the frosty evening air, she read from the book she had found at the occult shop. She needed something of the dead person’s, anything connected to their soul, and all it took was a little fire and saying a few words. She snapped the book shut, tucking it under her arm. Well, the journal was missing, and she wasn’t about to pull up every floorboard in her house to find where he had hidden it. She tried to think of what else she could possibly have of Mary Goore’s. The… stairs? What the fuck could she do with those? She snorted at her thought process, imagining lighting her own stairs on fire. He can’t _own_ stairs. The damn stairs weren’t Mary’s, they were the house’s. Technically, they were hers now. If she burned them, would she be destroying her own premature ghost?!

She was definitely over thinking this.

As she passed the lake, a thought burrowed its way into her mind. She had seen something in the lake that day before Copia had helped her up, hadn’t she? What had that white thing been? She bit her lip as she looked out at the water, at the shallow shore where she had investigated before. If her usual reference for these types of things—horror films—were anything to go by, white things in lakes usually meant bones. And she had read Mary’s body had been buried somewhere near the house, so logic dictated she was about to go on an excavation.

Smart.

Looking around behind her, she made sure nobody was watching. Some of the rabbits who lived around here darted skittishly from behind the bushes, and were gone as soon as they appeared. Copia was nowhere to be seen, probably asleep or something. She checked around one more time, then got on her knees by the water. The lake was murkier this time of year, and it didn’t help that the sun had gone down. She dipped her hand beneath the freezing surface, pulling back with a wince. It felt like glacier water. Still, she forced her hand back in and felt around. She could feel something slimy and cool, which was obviously the dirt at the bottom. She felt a little further, and her hand passed over something smooth.

“There you are… you dirty fucker…” she hissed, and went to feel deeper. _Yep_. There they were. The eyeholes. But this eyehole was a lot bigger than the other. She realized grimly what she was feeling. It was the crack in the front of his head that had killed him. So this was, in fact, Mary’s skull. Although she had found what she had been looking for, it still sent chills through her.

She went to pull the skull up, but felt something searing and sharp on her palm. Suppressing a scream, she snatched her hand back up, and saw that she now harbored a deep cut across her hand. Instead of being afraid, she just felt angry. “Fuck you. _Fuck you._ Fuck off, fuck off!” She reached down again, jamming her hand into the dirt until she had hooked her fingers into the holes of the skull. Then she felt something else beside it. A knife. His knife. That must have been what she cut herself on. She looked down, saw it glinting. It seemed to be just as sharp as when it was buried down here with him. She carefully unearthed what was beneath it, and brought the skull back to her place, setting it and the books down in her living room.

The clock ticked just past 7 pm. Helena looked back out her window to Copia’s house, biting her lip.

She stepped up to his door, gauze wrapped around her sliced palm. The aching guilt in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away, and she couldn’t make it unless she righted things with Copia. Communicating like adults was the only thing that would get them through this, so here she was after two weeks. She always found it stupid in romance movies when two people would stop talking to each other and sit around eating tubs of ice cream until the other fucking died or something. She supposed that made for better drama.

He had only been looking out for her, at the end of the day. It still struck the wrong chord with her that he had kept what he had from her, but after she thought of it from his perspective, he probably _would_ have seemed crazy for telling her the entire truth right off the bat. That was something you had to see for yourself.

“You home?” she called timidly, knocking once more. She fingered the crystal around her neck deftly. A few moments passed, before the door creaked open, revealing a groggy man in red boxers and a baggy Metallica t-shirt. It was the most casually dressed she had ever seen him—minus when she had seen him sans clothes at all.

“Forgive my appearance Helena,” Copia mumbled, wiping his eyes, “But I assume this isn’t a visit that heralds a warm welcome.” Helena’s heart melted a little, and in a rush of remorse, she stepped forward, nearly knocking him over with a hug. Copia stumbled back a few feet. “Ah,” he mused, placing a hand on the back of her head to cradle, “I see.”

“Copia, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You’ve been trying to protect me. Keeping everything from me so I wouldn’t panic. I didn’t see it.” 

“I should be the one apologizing. I’ve wronged you again,” Copia sighed. “I was too short with you. I’m sure you’re capable of living in your own home without my meddling. You’re a grown woman.”

“Copia, I want to feel safe. If I’m going to stay in this house, I need to know I have someone to protect me, and I know I’ll have you.”

“Always, Helena. For this reason perhaps, if I may request, I could visit more frequently? Just to ensure you’re alright.” To his relief, Helena nodded.

“Yes. _Yes_ , that’s what I’d been meaning to ask, but I got… sidetracked.” He leaned in, and after tentative looks that asked one another if this was okay, they kissed. Copia was thankful that their fight hadn’t been a long one. He looked down, noticing the stained gauze wrapped around her hand in concern.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Paper cut.” He looked surprised, and Hele shrugged. “Big one.”

He held the door open. “Why don’t you come in for a little bit? You look tired. Sexy, but tired.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re horny?” Helena smirked.

He pretended to consider this. “It has been quite a few days since I have been touched.”

“You didn’t jerk it while thinking of me?”

“I’m pretty sure I am spoiled now,” he chuckled. “Any touch that is not yours is not enough.” His eyes narrowed, and his dominant side reared up a little. “Did you not touch yourself while you thought of me?”

Helena blushed. “I tried not to. But it got bad.”

“Yes?” he breathed. “How bad?”

She bit her lip. “That’s your punishment. You don’t get to know what I’ve done to take care of it.”

He groaned. “You torture me so.”

“You torture me too, I very angrily wanted your cock for the past two weeks, but was too pissed off to ask for it.” To make it up to the pouting blonde, Copia leaned in for another kiss, this one starved. Just as his hands trailed down over her neck and down her collarbone to cup her breasts, the oven dinged.

“Ah! Cookies!”

“Cookies?” Helena blurted. “Like the snickerdoodles you gave me at Christmas?”

“Yes! I baked them myself again!” Copia smiled. Gone was the seductive flirt from moments ago, replaced by an excitable little rat man who was eager to share his creation.

“You know, you never cease to amaze me,” Hele smiled, leaning against the wall of the kitchen. Copia held up a finger as he ducked into the oven. His faint humming and the wiggling of his butt took a hold of her heart and squeezed, knocking the wind out of her. A sobering realization hit her—she couldn’t imagine the rest of her life without him.

“Wait until you try one of these ones! You will be even more amazed than last time.” He took the tray out of the oven with crimson oven mitts, and presented them. “Ta da!”

“Dork,” she teased, fighting to regain her stolen breath. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do.” She took the biggest one.

“They are cherry this time. The last of them I had gathered from my tree and froze before fall.” She took a bite, and moaned as if he had just made her cum again. He might as well of, with this heavenly-ass cookie.

He nodded, sampling one as well. “Mm. Mmhmm. Still,” he swallowed, “I can think of something that tastes better.” His eyes darted to hers, narrowed in mischief. Her own eyes widened in disbelief.

“W- _ow_.”

“I had to, the joke presented itself and I could not resist!” He went back to his kitchen and came back with two glasses of red wine, giving her one. Copia clasped his hands together, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Give me two days time, eh? I will have you over for a nice candlelit dinner, with more of that. I will bake, make some good food, yes! I have a garden out back, you know. There are, oh… two kinds of herbs in there. Maybe one. I haven’t checked. They are probably frozen now. Yes, shit.”

“Hey, if your cookies are this good, I can only imagine how good your cooking is, herbs or no,” she smiled, taking a sip of wine. “And trust me, I know good cooking.” She finished off the treat, licking her fingers. “So. No more secrets now. What’s all this stuff in your place, then?”

The two walked down the hall, Helena looking up at his paintings. “You had asked me about my little box when I was in your house,” Copia said, lacing his fingers behind his back. “The one with the, eh… symbols on it.” Helena nodded. “I feel I should clear that up.” He took a deep breath. “This old place, it used to be the town’s church. I’m sure you knew this. My house was built from the remnants of its stone structure, you see, and though it lacks the pews and the steeple, it still very much…” His eyes lowered. “Keeps the spirits in these walls alive. Some things have been left behind from the ghosts of the past.”

“So whatever’s in there, isn’t yours?”

He considered this. “No, what is in there is most definitely mine. But the mysticism with which it is kept is a product of history.”

“Man, if I had an orgasm for every cryptic answer I’ve received from someone today, it’d remind me of my first night with you.”

Copia laughed, but the sound died very quickly. “The contents in the safe are well protected, in many different ways. The safe itself is fireproof, waterproof, all that stuff. The symbols, it was something from the ancient days. I did not put it there.” He was quick to change the subject. “Do you like the paintings? I have seen you looking at them.”

“I do. Where did you get all of them?”

“I used to collect art, when I got out more. Over the years since, I have acquired more, most of them after a… significant event in my life. I even had a piece commissioned. It is the crown jewel of my home, if I do say so myself.” He gestured to a painting at the end of the hall, and Helena’s eyes widened. There Copia sat, immortalized in oil paint, sitting in a large black velvet chair. His position was regal, and he was wearing a black cassock and berretta. Curiously, that grucifix was painted in there as well, hanging from his painted glove in some sort of crystalline rosary.

“You had yourself imagined as a Cardinal?” she whispered, inspecting the brushstrokes, how they perfectly captured his expression, the odd silver hair in his brown sideburns, the mannerisms of his hands, the upturned nose and the fine mustache beneath it.

“Yes,” he mumbled, watching the painting closely.

“Why didn’t you get yourself done as a vampire?” Helena teased, “Don’t think I forgot that fantasy of yours.” She turned when Copia didn’t laugh, to see that he was staring intently at the painting—too intently. She watched him, how his eyes seemed frozen to the imagined version of himself, and felt chills run through her. “Hey. You alright?”

He snapped out of it, and his eyebrows lifted. “Ah, shit. Sorry. Disassociation, I think you call that.” She smiled, and took his arm as he led her to his back door.

“You look very handsome as a Satanic Cardinal.”

“Eheh. Thank you.”

“Y’know, I would come to confessional every day.”

“Yes?”

“I’d make you so hard that you’d have to touch yourself thinking of me in that sweaty little booth. How do they feel about that in the Satanic Church?”

“They encourage it,” Copia moaned. “At least, from what I’ve read.”

He opened the back door, and the two looked out over the lake. The wind had picked up, and the ripples reminded Helena of the rippling blood she had seen in her dreams of Mary. Her eyes closed, and she thought of asking Copia what he thought about the little ritual she was going to perform. He would know better than any, if he had done all this reading like he had said. But she had a feeling he would discourage her, even become enraged that she would think of messing with such things. No. She couldn’t tell him—this had to be done all on her own.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight, cara mia?” She looked up at him, and he patted her hand. “Just for the night, eh? You and I could both use a little snuggling, I think.” She wanted to say no. She wanted to banish Mary Goore from her house, so she could live happily ever after with the man beside her, worry free after tonight. But his smile was charming and his eyes were persuasive as always, tempting her with the thought of falling asleep in his arms again. She could complete the task the next night.

Copia’s bedroom was as gothic as the rest of the place. He had a large four poster bed with black satin sheets. It looked good enough to collapse into, so collapse Helena did, grabbing one of the plush black pillows. Copia headed into the adjoining bathroom, smiling.

“You will make me jealous of a pillow, cara.”

“Then come take its place,” she mumbled into the fabric. He splashed his face a couple of times with water, and after a couple minutes, joined her on the bed. Helena found him shirtless. “Oh,” she whispered, grinning. As he lay there beside her on his side, she got a good look at him in a state he’d never taken pause in before. He had an average amount of light hair on his upper chest, and a darker happy trail descending below his belly button—an innie, not an outie. He had some freckles around his shoulders, more by his hips, and a slight pudge just above his boxers. He was beautiful, so she told him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, with a blush reminiscent of their early days of meeting. “I do not agree most nights, but I thank you.”

“What do you mean?” Helena mumbled. “Look at you.”

“Mm, I have been looking at myself for too long. I am too busy looking at you now, you see.” She yawned like a cat, probably destroying all of her goddess-like imagery he was currently drinking in. He didn’t seem to mind.

Copia got under the fluffy bed sheets, and Helena crawled under them too. The unacknowledged monument of this evening went unsaid between them. This was the first time they had actually gotten into bed together as something of a couple. Not falling into it while kissing, not blindly scrambling to lay down while tearing each other’s clothes off. Getting into bed and watching each other do so, watching their routines of shaking the day off and getting ready to sleep. It was an act of intimacy that was both comforting and nerve-racking. 

Helena reached forward to brush a cowlick from Copia’s hair. She turned so that her back was facing him, and gestured to her neck. “Would you undo this?” He nodded even though she could not see him, and unhooked the black crystal around her neck, setting it down for safe keeping on his nightstand, beside his reading glasses. He stared at her body as if every time he looked at her was his last.

_Surely he could make this last forever, couldn’t he? He could find some way._

Letting out another yawn, the blonde felt her eyes droop. She crawled over to lay her head on Copia’s chest, reaching up to sleepily loop her fingers around the smattering of chest hair.

An hour went by like this, Copia’s eyes open in the dark. He couldn’t stop thinking. About this, about everything. He didn’t notice Helena’s eyes open as well from where she had turned over with her back to him, until he felt her hand tracing circles. He looked down, and she threaded her fingers with his. Watching her as best he could through the dark, he felt her shift up, and felt her lips gently graze his over her shoulder. Her hand, threaded in his, took him down to feel her beneath the covers.

It was unspoken query, a desire he could feel radiating off of her, but was he reading it right? Yes. His palm met her heat, felt how she wanted him and what she was wordlessly suggesting, and he accepted. Reciprocating the kiss, Copia’s fingertips traced her collarbone, felt her shiver as her skin raised in pleasured goosebumps. The kiss grew deeper, and Copia’s arousal began to grow for her. Hele swept her tongue over Copia’s bottom lip, gaining entrance between his lips, and his eyes slid shut in ecstasy.

Copia’s hand bunched in her shirt as she kept his hand there, gently rocking herself against it. The wetness was now soaking through her panties, and his thumb was trailing up and down, spreading it. Her breath hitched, and Copia wanted to see her. He needed to see her. He gently took his hand back, easing her over to face him. Their foreheads connected, and Helena drew in a deep breath. Copia stole it with another kiss. He gasped softly as Hele touched him, stroked a hand over where he had grown hard from the contact. She blinked, searching his eyes, but they were closed. She took consent from the mouthing of the word ‘please’ his lips were shaping, and reached into his pants, past the chub of his stomach she loved and down over his freckled hipbones to take his cock in her hand. She was the one who moaned first. Copia began to mumble something like a prayer, and they returned to kissing, heartbeat never rising. It was a slow, gentle stroke, and both were content to keep it that way. Copia’s own hand was stroking gracefully up the column of Helena’s neck, touch feather light. Soon however, his grip tightened slightly, holding her closer as he lost his resolve to remain this still.

Rolling himself over her, Copia was taken by the feel of the woman’s figure underneath him. The two arched together like long lost puzzle pieces. His hips pushed hers down as they rocked up to meet him, some kind of friction, and his hands eased her chest down to the mattress, head ducking down to kiss her nipples through her shirt. They were hard peaks, and he worshipped them for a moment before returning to her neck. Each kiss sent waves through Helena akin to an orgasm with each touch, and she tilted her head back for him. He gently eased her back up to look into her eyes, and though they couldn’t see each other in the dark, the pupils of one another’s eyes seemed to appear darker, rooting them in their unbreakable gaze.

Hele’s lips ghosted over Copia’s, his mustache grazing her top lip in a sensation that reminded her that this was all she ever wanted to feel when she kissed for the rest of her life. Her talented fingers were rubbing up and down his stomach, just above where he needed her, and she felt his erection jerk against her thigh. A nod was all it took, and Copia exhaled a faint groan, brushing golden curls from her face as he guided himself inside of her.

His name fell silently from her lips. Their proximity was perfect—no room to breathe except through each other, chest to chest, legs tangled, as Copia gave his first thrust. He kept her eyes locked to his, even when they squeezed shut every now and then from the feeling. The thrusts were slow, but thorough. Hele felt it deep when he pumped himself inside of her, the drag of his cock against her tightened walls awakening each nerve, how she didn’t want to let him go when he drew out each time, only to fulfill her again with another.

One hand descended down to feel and squeeze his ass, the clench of his muscles with every thrust. The other came up to play with his brown hair, fingernails scratching his scalp. Copia’s lips fell open, and Hele took advantage of his disarmament. She squeezed herself around him, and he paused his rhythm to moan. The next thrust was deeper, angled up perfectly, and his pace increased, fewer seconds between thrusts with each one. He buried his hands desperately in her hair. She had never felt so desired.

Helena sank back, reveling in the rocking motion of his hips, the warmth that spread through her worshipped body with each one. She never wanted this to end, but at the same time she knew her pique was near, and she craved it. She knew Copia did too. His hand came down to take hers, the other one bracing himself above her. Their bodies slid together, dancing together, grinding together, the heat between them nearing combustion.

Copia’s thighs began to shake, and Hele gasped, grasping his hand tighter in hers. Tears filled her eyes as she climbed toward the pinnacle, and Copia gazed down at her in adoration rivaled by not even history’s most notorious lovers. He held her close, so close to him, she was almost a part of him, he was a part of her, holding him inside of her. He let out a puff of air, a grunt, and Hele’s fingernails dug. Her toes curled, knee riding up his back as her muscles tensed before release. As her stomach let up its clenching, Helena felt as if she was floating, about to reach something she had never felt so intensely.

Her gasp was the most audible thing since the start, and Copia’s stance crippled as he let go, both of them coming at the same time. A tear fell down her cheek, then another one, and her draw back to reality was Copia’s lips kissing them away. He then returned his forehead to hers, breath ragged. Sensitive, she could feel his seed pooling inside of her, but she didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to give this up yet. Copia gently slipped out of her with a grunt, but immediately tucked her back into him, arms fitting underneath her breasts and softening cock up against the small of her back. He spoke softly, so as not to startle the moment.

“Happy tears, yes?” he whispered, breathless.

“I’ve never been so happy,” she breathed back, pulling him even tighter. She rested her leg across his under the comforter.

“You know something, Hele?” Copia whispered in her hair, stroking the back of her head gently.

“What?” she murmured. He sighed.

“I love you.”


	10. Chapter 10

“I’m worried about Helena,” Arthur told Dev. Dev looked up from his book in their warm bungalow, and got up to poke at the fireplace.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“She’s scared out of her mind, and I know it. She tries to put up this tough girl act, but I see right through it, Devon, dammit, I do. She spent all the money she had on her house and the tavern, and doesn’t want to impose on anyone by staying somewhere else! She's trapped."

“She does strike me as stubbornly independent,” Dev mused. “You’ve extended an invitation to her to stay here?”

“Of course.”

“And she knows how rare and lenient of us this was, yes?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Dev hummed, dropping the hot poker and coming over to join his husband in bed. “Well, she hasn’t lost her mind just yet, so I’m gonna hold out hope.” He straddled a newly interested Arthur, taking him by his collar firmly and with comfortable ease. The larger man smiled, and spread his legs for his husband. The two kissed for a minute, then parted in the firelight.

“For now,” he said softly, hands coming to rest on Dev’s hips.

-0-0-0-

Terzo sat at the table, staring out the window at the bustling life around their Stockholm condo. It was one residence of two he owned, the other being a private residence in Sicily. He thought of Helena, and what had been happening with her in Svavel. Not a day went by where he didn’t worry. What could he do from this far away? How could he help her? Imagining her scared in any way was nothing less than painful for him.

“Terzo, what’s wrong?”

Terzo looked up as Ira’s voice cut through the silence. He saw his wife there, her hand on top of his on the table. “Hm? Nothing, tesoro.”

“You haven’t touched your dinner. I made steak, just how you like it. All burnt and gross.” Terzo looked down at his plate, chuckled, and got up, going over to kiss his wife on the cheek.

“Ah, I don’t know what has gotten into me. You made me such a nice dinner, and I have lost my head again. I’m sorry. I wander off sometimes, you know…” Ira leaned back into Terzo’s lithe arms, which wrapped around her. “I will make it up to you, mm?” he murmured, pressing kisses to her ear, “Later?” Ira paused for a long while.

“You were thinking about her, weren’t you?”

Terzo feigned ignorance. “Who?”

“You know who.” It wasn’t very convincing.

“Ira, cara mia, I do not think about—" She pulled his hands down to her stomach.

“Terzo. Baby. I don’t mind if you think about her. She’s your friend, I know that, of course that’s fine. But… maybe this is just my baggage and all that, but I can’t stop thinking about your visit to Svavel. Just… please, put my mind at ease? I know it’s stupid and I’m paranoid, but you know what I mean.” Terzo looked pained, pity washing over him. His darling wife, his heart, wasn’t being stupid and paranoid at all in fact. He had a moral obligation to tell her what he had done. The kiss. But he knew his Ira, and if he mentioned the kiss, she would forever think it was something more, pinned to the back of her mind like a bulletin board. He had made a pact with Helena too, that the kiss had never happened. In long term interest, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. For everybody’s sake, he would let it die for good.

“Nothing happened, my love. She is my friend, and nothing more. I worry, that is all. As I would worry about you if you were to move out on your own somewhere far off.” And that was the truth, a truth he would die telling. 

Ira nodded. “Okay.” Terzo glanced up.

“Okay?”

“Okay. I apologize for asking—I won’t ask anymore.”

Terzo melted. “You know how I love you, don’t you? How much I do? You know I would do anything for you, yes?” He came over to cradle his wife. “I am to be a Papa! Such a gift I am hardly worthy of, yet here we are.”

She smiled. “Here we are—and you’re more than worthy. The worthiest man I know. The only reason I asked, is that we have a responsibility to our child. If we’re going to do this together, we have to _be_ together.”

“I am with you, my love. Now and always, body and blood,” Terzo whispered in her ear, trailing his lips down to her neck. She smiled, nodded, and leaned back into him.

“It’s a girl.”

“What?” Terzo breathed.

“It’s a little girl.” She placed a hand over her stomach again, and Terzo dropped to his knees to kiss her all over. “And I’d like you to name her.”

Terzo hummed, and pressed his ear to Ira’s stomach. He closed his eyes. “Cirice.” Ira grinned.

“Yes. I love that. Yes, yes, _yes_.”

“Funny, that is exactly what you will be saying tonight,” Terzo joked, standing. “ _Carefully_ , of course. Now put your arms around me, my beauty, and let me lead you into the night.” Ira threw her arms around his neck as he picked her up. He smiled as well, never feeling closer to the new family he had made. It was perfect, nothing messy about it, and he had never felt love like this. Though as he carried his wife to their room and dreamed of his baby daughter, some of his thoughts still remained in Svavel in Helena’s big old house.

-0-0-0-

The sun had gone down on the town. Helena thought back to her night with Copia. She’d never gotten that intimate with anyone—not even Terzo—she had never felt safe enough to. There was something, some sensation of being in Copia’s arms that put her completely at ease. And then, she had never cried during sex.

Despite one of the best nights of her life, she had to focus on doing this so she could preserve that. Nervously, she typed out a message to the chat.

_I’m getting rid of him tonight._

Seco: _Too bad. What did Copia do?_

Primo: _Shall we get the knives out and come to see him hm ?_

Hele: _No no not Copia_

Hele: _Mary._

There was a long pause where both of the others were typing, then stopped. Seco responded first.

Seco: _I trust you are being careful with whatever you are doing, yes?_

Hele: _I went into that occult shop and got something that can banish him for good_

Primo: _Insufferable man who workedTHERE_

Primo _: I am sorry,my thumb hit the capitals lock ?,_

Hele: _Yeah, Cowbell’s a bit weird, but he knew what he was talking about._

Hele: _I feel good, guys. I’m finally going to be able to settle down with someone who loves me after I get rid of this twerp who thinks he can screw with me_

Primo: _He loves you ?! !_

Seco: _Copia said this?_

Hele: _He said it :) last night_

Seco: _Have you said it back?_

Hele: _I kinda fell asleep, but I’m gonna say it as soon as I figure this ghostly shit out. So I can finally start my life together with him for good_

Seco: _I am so happy for you, Hele. I only ask you be safe, uno dolce._

Hele _: I will. I’ll let you know how it goes._

Primo: _Do you n eed us THERE_

Primo _: DAMN_

Primo: _I meant , damn._

Seco _: You are as bad as father with a phone, merda_

Helena laughed, and typed out her reply.

Hele: _I’m good. I can do this alone. Love you guys_

Seco: _Okay. I am going to get crunk and dance until my back gives out, but I will remain lucid enough to assist you over the line if need be. xo_

Primo: _yes I am going to, go get my bowl of werthers and watch Gilligan’s Island “re – runs”_

Seco: _You are actually going to do that? Unironically act like a 97 year old?_

Primo: _Keep silent Secondo, or I will eat you,_

Seco: _Autocorrect?_

Primo _: I said what I said ._

Hele: _Leave him alone, he’s a cute old man_

Primo: _Not too old to Satisfy the women Seco could not get it up for_

Hele: _LOL!_

_Seco has logged off._

Primo: _Love to yoy dove, hugs and asses ;-)_

Hele: _…I’m going to assume that meant “kisses” babe, but I’ll take both. xoxo_

Smiling, she tucked her phone away safely. Strangely, Terzo hadn’t responded or even seen the messages, even with Primo’s prime dig at Seco. That’s fine. He must be busy tonight. She took a deep breath, and opened the black book. So, she was really doing this. She opened the page she had bookmarked on “The Banishment of Unwelcome Non-Corporeal Entities.”

“See that?!” she shouted. “Unwelcome!” She smirked to herself, about to catch the unsuspecting trash-mouthed spirit with his pants down. All her confidence withered when the lamp in the corner shorted out. She bit her lip. _Fine_. Maybe that was a good idea; maybe she should turn all her lights out. The ritual called for that, didn’t it? She went around, dousing the light, and lit a few tea lights in place of bulbs. Her pumpkin pie scented candle was flickering right in the middle of them.

She turned the skull over in her hands to look at it. There was the crack down the middle. She imagined it stained with his blood, like the blood of his family. She shivered at the memory of him in her dream, and what his apparition had looked like at the end of her hallway last month. It made her feel dirty, like she had disturbed something sacred by touching a relic so riddled with negative energy. But there was nothing sacred about Mary Goore, and if he wanted to desecrate her home and invade her mind, then she had no problem using the sacrilegious to make sure he burned.

She placed the skull in a bowl in front of her, and began to read. “Sentio conspectu tuo in nobis. Vos can abscondere in tenebris.” She did as the book told her to—she made sure the candles were in a perfect circle around the object. “Tu exaudi multitudine. Potestis audire quod suus 'non illa vocantem.” She felt a gust of wind blow her hair, but she ignored it and pressed on. “Virtutem inferi clamavi assistas legiones in. Haeret in animo hic est, qui non grata. Ad quos eieci te!” One of the candles went out, but Helena lit it again. “Mary Goore,” she said, flicking her lighter. The candles seemed to burn brighter. “Et ut corpora tangere manes hinc animi malis! I cast you out!” 

The bowl below her began to fill up with blood, and she heard laughter around her.

Not wasting a minute, she lit the skull on fire, and the flames curled up in front of her. She fell backward, shielding her face, and she could have sworn she heard whispers and hissing swirling around her. In a burst of flame, an apparition appeared in before her. “You think it’s that easy?” His voice was wavering between that of a young man and that of something monstrous.

“I cast you out,” Helena repeated, fingers trembling. The apparition of Mary grinned a bloody grin down to her, his eyes lighting up with the fire that burned below in the bowl.

 _“You can’t cast shit,”_ he snickered, and crouched down, boxing himself in over her, over the flaming bowl. She watched in horror as the flames burned up, caught his spectral shirt on fire, and engulfed his skin. His teeth were sharp, his face gaunt. Blood dripped onto her from his bubbling skin combusting and melting off, but dissolved as soon as it reached her skin. His finger trailed down to dig into her stomach, and she screamed. Mary growled, like a beast. _“You don’t get a happy ending,”_ he snarled, fire lighting his entire face up with his hair as his voice dropped down to a hellish rumble. _“Just like he didn’t.”_

 _What?_ Helena didn’t have time to think. “I cast you out,” she blurted, scrambling to speak the last three words of the ritual she had read. “Ego mittam te!”

Mary’s laughter devolved into ungodly screaming, loud and terrifying screams that echoed around the house as the walls and windows shook. She wrapped her arms around herself and put her hands over her ears to block the horrible sounds that would surely haunt her for years to come. After a few seconds of nothing, she finally dared to open her eyes. She expected to see his bloody face grinning at her still, ready to make good on that nightmare for real… but she saw nobody, and nothing, for all the candles had gone out. All that Mary had left behind was one more single gold coin, with the symbol she had come to know carved into it.

As Hele slowly lit the candles again, she shivered, looking around her. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of her house. The tapping of the shutters upstairs. The drip of her kitchen faucet. The night bugs outside. All the sounds she should be hearing. She exhaled in relief, and watched the smoking embers of Mary Goore’s remains turn to dust before her.

The darkness had lifted, and she felt like she could breathe again.

-0-0-0-

Helena headed to bed feeling better than she had in a long time. Copia confessing his love to her the night before, and getting rid of Mary Goore for good had given her a reason to smile. Tomorrow night, she was supposed to go over to Copia’s for dinner, and that’s when she would tell him. She would tell him how she had gotten rid of Mary, and they could finally live together now—whether it be in her house or his. It didn’t matter which really, but she hoped he would move in with her… his house was nice, but it had all the charm of an old castle from Scooby Doo. She giggled to herself as she imagined Copia watching through eye holes in that portrait of him, and it turned into snorting laughter as she imagined walking by it in her bra and panties to tease the man hiding behind it. It was a strange portrait for sure, but Copia was a man who didn’t shy away from the oddities of life, and that’s what Helena loved about it. Besides, the painted re-imagining made him look regal… even more sexy, and mysterious.

She looked out the window, and saw Copia’s chimney going. As she brushed her teeth, she wrapped her own arm around her middle, imagining it was him, and eventually collapsed into bed dreaming of Copia pinning her down in front of said fire. Soon, she wouldn’t have to imagine it was his arm wrapped around her.

Next door, Copia sat in his library by the fireplace with his reading glasses on. He couldn’t shake the feeling something strange was amiss—it was a chill he felt in his bones, whispers in the back of his head he couldn’t shake. The Germans had a lovely word for this type of feeling: _Fingerspitzengefühl._ Copia was never one to ignore instinct. Case in point: Helena.

The tapestry hidden in his house clouded his mind with the image of her, woven silk he had stared at for too many years. He smiled to himself, imagining her curled up by the fire here with him. He wished he could just let himself be happy for once. And he was happy. He had never been happier than when he was with her, felt her refreshing vitality around him like a warm blanket, and the thought of looking into her eyes every morning when he woke up made his heart beat just a little faster. Tonight though, this feeling disturbed him, and he wished he could figure out what it was he had such a bad feeling about. Whatever it was, was giving him insomnia, so there he sat with his old bound copy of The Turn Of The Screw.

He read a couple more lines, then put his book down. His eyes darted nervously. Was Helena in some kind of situation? Is that was his intuition was telling him? Lacing his fingers together behind his back, he checked out the window. All the lights were out in her house, so he couldn’t see any signs that she was in any turmoil. He began to feel sick to his stomach. Maybe he should have moved her in right away. He knew what Mary could do… it had been nothing short of neglect to let her stay alone in a place like that, even if he had been keeping an eye on her. Letting out a sigh, he went to sit back down in his black velvet armchair. That’s it, then. Tomorrow when she came for dinner, he would ask her to move in with him. Yes.

He couldn’t wait to have her over. He had told her how he felt, but she had yet to say it back. Maybe if given the proper opportunity, or not said when the poor woman was about to fall asleep, she would return his affections.

He smiled to himself, thinking of her soft hands and subtle quirk of her eyebrow when she said something suggestive. It made his heart ache as if it had sustained a fatal stab wound. He really shouldn’t have told her he loved her—he was just making this more complicated, but at this point there was no way out he could see. He needed to make sure she didn’t get hurt.

But he couldn’t tell her why.


	11. Chapter 11

Copia sat at the table, imagining Helena sitting across from him. Would the candlelight get in her eyes too much if they were placed there? He figured they would. Bouncing up, he rearranged the table for the 12th time that night, and sat back down. There. That looked respectable. That's how he used to arrange them, back when he used to have people over for a proper dinner. This would be the first thing that resembled that in many years.

A knock at the door sounded. Copia stood, straightening out his shirt, and gave his hair a quick ruffle. "You look good," he told himself. "Whatever you do, you must woo her into staying here. It is safer for her that way, eh?" He nodded to himself as a response, and went to get the door. He opened it to greet Hele; but no one stood on his porch. "Helena?" he called. "Are you trying to frighten me?" She had never done this before, but he wouldn't put it past her. Copia walked out on his porch, down the couple of steps. "Eh... you want me to come find you?" He chuckled. "Be warned cara, when I do find you, I will--"

The front door slammed shut behind him. Copia turned, ran back to find that the door opened easily when he tried. Whatever had closed it hadn't locked it, at least. He entered his home again and narrowed his eyes. He remained silent, waiting for the next move of whatever had found him. Copia's jaw clenched when he saw the cutlery on the table begin to link together, crossing forks over knives. The candles on the table went out one by one, but the last remained-- Copia waited with baited breath.

Before his eyes, the wick sparked, emitted a blast of fire and tipped over. Copia darted for it, catching the table runner as a line of fire lit it up. Realizing it was burning to ash in his hands, he tossed it into the fireplace. A hot blast came from it, and Copia looked behind him.

"What is it you are you doing here?" He waited for a beat. "What is it you want?" He saw the steak knife out of the corner of his eye move slightly, then noticed the tip of the blade was dragging against the table. He walked over and peered down at what it was marking...

Another knock at the door startled Copia. The knife fell limp, and the man turned. Hurrying over, he made himself presentable as quickly as he could, and opened it to find Helena this time. She was wearing a jacket for the cold, but took it off when he offered to take it. Her dress almost made him forget the unnerving encounter-- she looked beautiful in red. Left speechless, Helena sauntered up to him, leaving a lipstick stained kiss on his cheek and walking in.

"Would you like to come in?" she teased. Copia quickly regained consciousness, and shut the door.

"You are lovely," he complimented, hanging her coat in a fluster. "I apologize, you simply stunned me so."

"Stop, you're gonna make me wanna ride you before dinner," she returned with a feline smirk. Copia huffed.

"That would be quite the appetizer." He guided the blonde to her seat. "But I think it would make a better dessert."

"No more cookies?" Helena asked.

"Only my cock, I'm afraid." He finally broke her, a blurted laugh escaping. His ears tinged red. To make up for that quip, he pulled the chair out for Helena and made sure she was seated comfortably at his dinner table. Following, he disappeared to retrieve the bottle of wine he had been letting breathe in the kitchen. After pouring both their glasses, Copia tried not to focus too hard on the glaring absence of his table runner. He cast a quick glance toward the fireplace, then back to his Hele.

The two served their pasta Copia had made with a delicious garlic bread, caprese salad, and tapenade. "This is amazing," Helena commented. "Where'd you get this red sauce?" Copia dabbed some of the sauce in question from his mustache.

"I made it."

Helena balked. "My friend would be insanely jealous. He's Italian too, and his cooking isn't even this good."

"It is an... old recipe. Been around for generations. I have perfected it over some years with spice, a little red wine, the finest olive oil that has been aging forever."

"So, you're not only good at baking, but cooking too."

Copia smiled. "I told you so."

"That, I could live with," she sighed. Copia's green eyes darted up.

"Actually, Hele. That is a matter I would like to speak to you about." He paused the twirling of his pasta. "You... that is, is it a desire of yours to live here? With me?" Helena paused. Copia chewed on the inside of his lip.

"I just moved in to my place," she said softly. Looking off and focusing on one of Copia's paintings, she continued. "It's a complicated thing. We live right next to each other, but it's not enough. Of course I know that. But I can't just leave my new house, and I'm sure you don't want to give up this." She gazed around at the towering walls and antiques. Copia, instead, was staring at the box of his in the corner. Helena captured his attention once more. "I want to live with you, Copia. I just don't know what we're going to do."

"Well. It is a matter we can discuss another time," he conceded, burying the rising disappointment. "It is not a big deal!" They ate for a moment in silence, before Helena's foot brushed against Copia's leg under the table. He looked up to see her giving him a smile of consolation.

"You look good tonight," she said, placing her hand over his. Copia took it, squeezing gently and rolling his thumb around her palm.

"So do you. You seem to be at ease for the first time in a while. Other than that night in my arms."

"That's really the only time I feel at ease," she admitted. Copia hid his blush in a pat to his lips with his napkin. "—But I feel good. The pub is doing great."

"That is good to hear!"

"You really should come check it out when we're actually open," she teased. "You can meet my friends."

"That would... be nice."

"How about tomorrow?" Copia swallowed some wine, licking his bottom lip nervously.

"Hele, I... I don't think that, particularly, would be possible—”

"Why? You came in to see me once, I mean it's not like you're agoraphobic, are you? It's okay of course, if you are—"

"That is not what it is."

"Then why can't you ever come out, go for a walk with me in town?"

"Hele, it is complicated, per favore—"

"Why does it have to be?" She was growing irritated. Copia deflected with a question that was sure to knock her off balance.

"How is your supernatural problem at home?"

Helena hesitated. Of course he was changing the subject, but this topic was just as important as the other. She wondered if this was the time to let him in on what she had done. If she was going to tell him at all, now would be the time-- and since she had already successfully performed the ritual with no repercussions or mistakes, she figured it would save her a lecture. "I got rid of him."

"You got rid of the presence lingering in your home?" Copia frowned.

"I visited the occult shop in town." Already, Copia looked apprehensive. "Before you say anything, the guy who runs the shop knew everything there was to know about what I had in my house."

"How could he possibly?" Copia muttered.

"What?"

"Ai, nobody truly knows everything about such things. You have to have lived it, seen what happened."

"What happened to what?" Helena asked. "Why are you always so cryptic with me?!"

"It is a dangerous thing to dabble in dark arts you don't understand, Helena."

"Yeah, I got that, you've tried and failed to protect me from them."

"I wouldn't say I've failed, you are still alive," Copia replied drily.

"Because of me," Hele shot back. "I banished Mary, it was me. I said the words, I burned his bones, and I got rid of him." Copia's eyes drifted up to hers, widened.

"You what?"

"I performed a ritual, alright?" Copia thought of what she said about his bones, and panic filled the man.

"Hele. Cara mia. Please listen to me carefully, I beg of you. You must move from that house. There is nothing left for you there, and I cannot in good conscience leave you after what you have done."

"What are you talking about?" Helena begged.

"I will tell you once you are here, with me."

"I want to know now, fuck!"

"It is..." Copia paused, noticing the engraving from the knife before she had arrived. His eyebrows furrowed at the letter the entity had left behind when asked what it wanted. H. Copia took a deep breath. "It is alright. You are okay, I just wish to have you here. To keep an eye, si?" Helena'a face softened. She took his hand again, and looked out the window to her house.

She didn't want to leave it. Of course she didn't. She had just moved in practically, and found she liked the independence. But her love for Copia, almost intrinsic in its force, drew her to accept. Despite her house not being haunted any longer, she supposed he was right. He seemed to know more about her house than she did, hopefully a history he would one day share with her.

"I will explain, Hele," he insisted. "But I can keep you safe if you are here, you see this?" She nodded. He stood, beckoning her up. He welcomed her into his arms, cradled her. "You mean the world to me," he whispered.

"Give me a few days," Hele murmured, resting her head against his chest in their embrace. "I have to get my things together."

"Va bene." Despite his concern, he couldn't deny her that. Copia looked around his living room, a sense of dread creeping into him. The encounter from earlier left a bad taste in his mouth, but he quickly rectified it with a kiss. Helena breathed in Copia's scent, pulling his body further in against hers. From just the slightest brush of her hand, she felt him respond with a throb. 

"What about that dessert you mentioned?" Hele whispered. Copia walked her back toward his couch, stopping only to make sure she could comfortably sit. Supporting himself with a hand on the cushion, Copia leaned forward to deepen the kiss, using his other hand to take Hele by the back of the neck. She reached up to unbuckle his pants, and gave him a long stroke through them before she unzipped. He wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"You were expecting this," she grinned.

"So were you," he huffed, gesturing down between her legs. She hadn't in fact worn any panties under her dress. Hele took Copia out of his pants and slid the tight garments down his thighs, listening to his slight little whimpers. Swiping up a bead of pre, she rolled her fist down over him until he was hard and bobbing over top of her.

He stood back to full height in front of the couch as Helena made a show of sliding her dress up to expose herself. "Take me," she breathed, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. Copia wasted no time in taking her legs under his arms and guiding himself to her entrance. She lifted her hips, and Copia slid inside. He barely gave her time to adjust, pushing all the way in and pulling out before repeating it.

The first pound of his cock inside her sent Helena arching, fingernails digging into the couch. The pleasure bloomed from her lower belly all over her body, and she chased the sensation again, rocking down into his next thrust. Helena pulled him down, and Copia fell between her legs, closing his eyes and losing himself inside her body. Helena reached down to grab for his hand, and Copia clasped hers in his, pounding in. It didn't take long for both to finish, holding onto each other and breathing heavily.

Copia slid down to his knees, resting his head on Hele's stomach. His left sideburn scratched against her sensitive skin, sending pleasant shivers through her. As the stars began to clear from the peripherals of her vision, Hele studied Copia's home, all the occult antiques that seemed to be from times long since past. She stroked a hand through his hair.

"You're a mystery I wish I could solve, Copia," she breathed. Copia didn't respond; only reveled in the rise and fall of his love's body beneath him as he traced an inverted star in her hand. 

-0-0-0-

It was 2:14 in the morning the night after the dinner with Copia. She had spent the whole day putting her things together to leave—she couldn’t believe she was really doing it, but at least she wasn’t leaving town altogether… only her pretty old house. It was bittersweet for her, but she supposed she would find out why Copia was so worried soon. Mary’s old journal had turned up when she was putting her things into boxes. It was in the fireplace, but it hadn’t burned. It was curious. She had read through it once more, most pages about his band or his sister, Becca. He loved her very much, almost as if she was his inspiration to do what he was doing. It still didn’t make any sense what had happened to him and his family.

Tonight, Helena had awakened to heavy snow falling outside. She felt a chill, and looked over to her door. Something didn’t feel right. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn the little black nightdress to bed on a winter night… but she felt sexy in it, and that was a feeling she constantly sought out lately. Still, the chill went beyond her attire.

“Did you leave that fucking kettle on again?” she groaned to herself. Had she even made tea that night? She looked out the window for a second, watching the snowflakes. It was white outside, almost magically so, and it all came back to her why she had moved out here in the first place. Her own backyard looked like something the Group of Seven would have painted and sold for thousands of dollars. The lake was frozen over like glass, soft snow drifting across as the breeze blew the flakes. The bushes and trees were wrapped in marshmallow, and the sky was starry. She sighed.

Despite the beauty out there, something still didn't feel good. Pulling out her phone, her fingers hovered over the keys before finally typing out a message to her friends that they would probably read in the morning.

_You know that feeling that’s like blehhhhh_

_Terzo: Depression?_

_Helena: Why are you awake_

_Terzo: Ira fell asleep, we were going all night_

_Helena: Tmi_

_Terzo: Why do you feel blehhhh_

_Helena: Got the heebies tonight, don’t know why. Maybe my brain is being weird_

_Terzo: Are you alright?_

_Helena: Just feels like something in the air. I’m probably crazy, ignore me and go to sleep._

Throwing the covers off of herself, she wrapped the wool blanket around her body and walked downstairs. As she went, she turned on every light she could-- something definitely wasn’t right. Looking down the stairs, everything seemed to be as it should. Things were where they should be, nothing was moved or scratched. She could see the kitchen from her position, and nothing seemed to have been left on the stove. There was the bowl of Mary Goore’s ashes in the middle of her living room floor, with the surrounding extinguished candles. She wasn’t about to touch those until morning light, no matter how gone he was.

Helena shook her head. Had she bothered her friends for nothing? As she turned, she noticed someone out the window. Squinting, she realized Copia was heading into his house. Maybe she could catch him for a quick kiss. _Maybe she could even give him the good news now—she could tell him what she’d been waiting to tell him since the other night._

Excitement rising in her stomach, Helena opened her front door. “Hey!” she called, waving. “Looks like I’ve been snubbed, huh? No knock on the door for a kiss?!” She grinned, brushing her hair from her face; then she focused in on the figure standing at his open door.

That wasn’t Copia.

She shouted in warning as if someone could hear, but her own door slammed shut, crashing against her face. Helena moaned, rolling over, and brought a hand up to her aching nose. When she pulled away to check, there was blood on her fingertips. That didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the fact that Copia was in danger, and she had to find some way out of her house to help him.

Helena’s head spun as she supported herself against the wall, running as fast as she could to try the back door. As she rounded the corner, she let out another scream.

There, in crimson staining the wall, was the infinity symbol looped through the inverted pentagram.

Helena hurried to the living room, found the book she had used to seemingly banish the spirit, and threw it open to the page. Searching for some reason, any reason, it might not have worked, her watering eyes scanned the words, the Latin, the symbols, until she got to the anecdotes at the bottom.

_Be certain the entity is a simple spirit. If your entity has any ties to the demonic realm, this ritual will serve as an adverse affect—to make them stronger, and allow them to regain their corporeal form through the dark forces invoked. If you perform this ritual in the presence of a demon, you are giving them permission to use their full powers—you are letting them in._

The flames. The sulphur. _How had she been so stupid_? The demon had tricked her into thinking it was Mary. Helena sobbed into her hands, dropping the book, and it fell to the floor, open to the inside of the cover. Written in scrawled handwriting at the top, was the owner of the book:

 _Property of the Satanic Church_. Underneath it: _MG._

She hadn’t banished Mary Goore. She had invited in the demon Mammon with the very book Mary had used.

Tearing back up the stairs, Helena grabbed her phone, which had thankfully been charging.

 _Wait. Whose blood was that downstairs?_ She found herself wondering _, It couldn’t be his… it couldn’t._

She frantically texted a message to all her friends and anyone who could receive it. Blood dripped down onto her arm from of her nose, and she wiped her face quickly as she sent the message. She didn’t like placing her safety in someone else’s hands, but she would be stupid not to ask for help now.

“ _Please hurry, emergency,_ ” her text read; it wasn't much to go on, but it was the best she could do with furiously shaking hands. Helena counted to ten, and with a deep breath, she ran back downstairs. She had to get out of the house.

Running down past the writing on the wall again, she hesitated. Something occurred to her to check. Was Copia laying there, lifeless? She had to check. _She had to check._ Taking a cautious step closer, she positioned her fists out in front of her in case anyone was waiting for her back there; human or not, whatever it was would get a fist to the face faster than a shot.

She had never been so scared in her life.

One step. Another step. The crimson dripped down the wall, Helena's heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Whatever sight awaited her could change the course of her life.

There however, on the ground in a heap, she found the discarded corpses of two white rabbits. Stomach churning, Helena averted her eyes, but couldn't help letting out a breath. _See?_ _It wasn't his blood. Of course it wasn’t_. She took a few more steps back, and ran to her front door. She didn't notice the bloody knife lying on the stairs in wait as she banged as hard as she could for the door to open—the knife she thought she had destroyed.

She felt her phone buzz in her hand. Looking down and steadying her fingers, she read one single reply:

_Terzo: I’m on my way._

The blonde’s eyes closed as she let out a soft cry of relief. She looked out her window back to Copia's living room. It looked as if he had all of his lights on, the inside of the house brilliantly illuminated. At least he wasn’t a lamb to the slaughter—if he was awake, he could fight back. Even so, she couldn't leave him. Mary, in full offense mode and able to kill now because of her, was there in his house. What would Copia do against a murderer? Sure, he was feisty in _some_ ways, but he’d probably never had to defend himself against someone like this! With a frustrated growl, she realized she couldn't get out, couldn't budge the door. 

"Copia," she murmured, almost apologetically. She wondered what he was doing that required all that light, anyway. Looking closer out the window pane, she realized those weren't his lamps on. The light inside his house was a fire.

Helena’s eyes widened. She looked up frantically to see if she could see him in his bedroom. She could see a figure on the first floor, and the figure was standing by the window, which was promising. He could get out, he could climb out onto the roof. _Only..._ The figure grinned, and Helena's blood ran cold.

She had never smashed a window in her life, but she did so with all of her strength, ignoring the glass lodged in her knuckles as she ran. Her legs got caught in the snow banks, magical earlier in the night but deadly sludge now beneath her feet. She fell into it, the frigid snow seeping through her nightdress and pulling her down like quicksand. With a heave, she stood herself up, knees shaking and teeth chattering. None of it mattered. She had to save him. She made it over to his house, and burned her hand on the doorknob. That didn’t deter her. She gripped it and beat on the thing with weak limbs until the door gave way. Smoke billowed out.

"Copia!" she screamed, waving her arm in front of her face to get rid of the thick black smoke surrounding her. Desperation and panic began to cloud her senses along with the smoke. " _Angelo_ , please!"

She could see something; she could see someone on the ground, legs kicking. Upon closer inspection, it was Mary, or Mammon, and he seemed to be shaking.

Then she looked up to see him. She could see him across the room. Copia seemed to be staring right at Mary… one last look down to the young man on the floor made Helena’s heart twist. A bright gold shimmer flashed from Mary’s eyes, and he looked around, frightened. Helena heard his croak over the crackling.

“Becca…?” Mary asked, lower lip trembling as he looked around for his sister.

Then before Helena’s eyes, Mary Goore’s skin melted from his bones, and he was left a skeleton. She didn’t have time to mourn a ghost she never knew. He seemed lifeless—for real, for good. Stunned, she wondered how that could have happened. Was he really dead this time? Had Mammon left? Was it just a ruse to lure her into the blaze too?

Copia was still standing there.

_Just standing there._

"Oh my god! Take my hand! Copia, NOW, take my hand!" she screamed, her voice cracking. He took a step forward. She watched him take a step toward her through the burning furniture, _through_ the fire— a scream caught in her throat as she watched flames lick his arms, curl around his shoulders.

She felt hands on her own shoulders, dragging her back. She thrashed.

 _"You can go to hell!"_ she screamed, whipping around and expecting to be greeted by a demon’s ferocious grin. Instead, she looked into Terzo’s green eyes, searching and full of concern.

"What are you doing?!" he yelled over the crackling flames. "Come on!"

"No, I'm not leaving him," she sobbed, jerking out of his grip and running back. "He's in there, I'm not leaving him!"

"Who?!" Terzo shouted, growling and running after her. "Helena, stop! Get back here, do _not_ go in there!"

"COPIA!" she winded herself by crying, watching the beams topple down over the haunting figure of her love. Terzo grabbed her from behind around her middle, picking her up himself and dragging her, kicking, to the road, where he had left the passenger door of his car open. Closing her door and running to his side, Terzo pulled away before Helena could do anything stupid. She touched the window, sobs escaping her in silent gasps.

She watched, as her house faded into the distance, the calm frozen lake displaying the glittering orange reflection of the house burning with Copia inside of it.

-0-0-0-

"Helena," Terzo started, cutting through the thick silence.

From her shotgun seat, Helena continued to stare out the window at the passing trees, tear stains making tracks through the soot on her cheeks.

"Helena," Terzo tried again, "I got into the car when I saw your text from earlier, about not feeling right. I have come to trust your intuition. I floored it the entire way, I’m surprised I didn’t…” She stayed silent. He shook his head. “ _Porca puttana._ What were you thinking running into a burning old abandoned house like that? Are you out of your mind?!" Helena didn't answer. She almost couldn't hear him.

He didn't press.


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur: _Oi. Where are you?_

Arthur: _What happened? Are you good?_

Arthur _: Are you okay luv?_

Arthur: _Do you need us to call the police?_

Arthur: _Helena you're scaring me. You haven't been coming in and you’re not home what's going on?_

Dev: _Hey, this is your favourite gay. You’re lucky we have a spare key to the pub, or we’d be out of business. ffs_

_Dev: Hey Helena where the hell are you?! Aether’s freaking out and so am I_

Dev: _we visited your place... the door was left open and the old house next door was a pile of rubble with just a couple of things ! WTF happened?!_

Dev: _Helena?_

Dev: _Helena, are you fucking dead??_

Helena tossed her phone away, after watching the battery percentage blink from 2%, to 1%, to dead. She didn't care. None of it mattered. She had watched Copia die, because she couldn't save him. She should have jumped in that fire and dragged him out. Why didn't she?

_Why didn't I?_

It could have been Mary’s doing. He could have made it look like that, so she would do just that and risk her life to save Copia. But Mary’s death looked very convincing in there… she should’ve tried, regardless. It would have been better to die in that house than know she did nothing to save him.

"Hele," Terzo said gently, coming over. Hearing his voice, she was reminded of where she was. He had her put up in one of their guest bedrooms, and she hadn't even thought to apologize for intruding. Ira must be pissed. Helena couldn't bring herself to care. "Are you alright, cara? You haven't said a word since I picked you up. I haven’t told my brothers that you’re here. I haven’t told anyone.” When she didn’t answer, he sat down beside her. “Hele, you've been sleeping all day, I wanted to make sure you were not hurt." Helena mumbled something, rubbing her eyes. "What?"

"Did you see him?" she whispered hoarsely. She touched her throat gingerly. Her voice was worn, even after all these hours, and she could feel the cough rattle her chest from the smoke. Terzo frowned.

"Who?"

"Copia," Helena whispered, her voice trembling. "He was... he was right there..." Terzo hesitated, something that looked like discomfort passing over his face.

"Helena?"

"What, Terzo?"

"Please take a look at this."

Passing a section cut out from a newspaper, he gestured to the article. Helena read over the headline.

_"A Sad Day In Svavel For History Buffs: Old House Built From Satanic Church Burns To The Ground In Fluke Blaze."_

Helena swallowed, dragging her fingers over the paper. "Yes... that's it. It was an old house, used to be a church. Copia told me that."

"Read," Terzo whispered, and Helena glanced back down to the page apprehensively, knowing what she would find. " _Body Discovered"_ or _"Tragic Death,"_ or something. But that would have been in the headline, wouldn't it?

"What is this?" Helena asked. "What am I looking for in this article?"

"Please. Just read it, Helena," Terzo sighed, dragging a hand through dusty black hair. He looked weary and perplexed, and it was unsettling to her. Looking back down, her eyes followed the ink down the cut-out. 

_"Formerly the Church of Satan and long-time home of Cardinal Copia, a devout servant of Satan in the 1300s, the abandoned remodeled building at 666 Helvete Street was an inferno waiting to happen, with its old wood and rotting boards--"_

It felt as if all her blood vessels had run dry. "What?" she laughed, shaking her head, "They... they got the story wrong! They should really get the story right, I mean... it's not very professional--"

"Helena-"

"--Because the house wasn't abandoned. They must have been thinking of another one, because it wasn't abandoned--"

"Jesus Helena, please!"

"Don't look at me like that Terzo, _I was there_. I was-- I was there, I had tea in his house, he-- he had books, he had a _bed_ that I slept in--"

But there he was, at the bottom of the page, standing in front of the gothic church that used to stand where the house did. Her Copia, dressed in that cassock from the painting, black and white painting worthy of a history textbook. CARDINAL ANGELO COPIA, OF THE CHURCH OF SATAN. LIKENESS CAPTURED 1331, 21 YEARS BEFORE HIS...

"Untimely death of the plague in 1352," she breathed.

Helena blinked. She blinked and she blinked and she blinked until she couldn't see the page anymore. Was it even there? Was she even there?

"Hey," Terzo said, taking her hands. "Hele, look at me."

How much of this had she dreamed up? Had she been dreaming it all? He was there, she couldn't have imagined all of that... they had sex. They spoke, _they saw each other every fucking day for the better part of a year. He had told her he loved her. They were going to…_

Bloody Mary, whatever he had become, was a real presence in her house. Everyone in Svavel knew that. _But Copia...?_

Nobody in town knew what she was talking about when she mentioned him at first. Nobody knew him as a resident of the town, and everyone did a double take when she mentioned his address. Now that she thought of it, nobody had ever seen him but her. Was she really that delusional? All this time, and—

"I'm," Helena stuttered, then looked back down to the page. She stared until it felt like her eyes were the same texture of the paper. A single blink, and the crystal was still there.

Ira came into the room, eyes downcast. "Terzo? Can you go check on dinner?" Her voice was tiny, airy. Helena realized this was the first time she had heard her speak. Giving her an inquisitive look, Terzo rose. They had obviously had a talk while Helena slept, but Ira continued to avoid his eyes.

Once he was gone, the brunette looked back up to Helena, who noticed Ira’s bright blue eyes. They were guarded, almost unpredictable, and Helena found herself waiting for the other woman to speak.

"Can I bring you some tea?" she finally asked softly, placing a hand over hers. Helena let out a breath, and couldn’t help it. She started to cry. Ira leaned forward, and hugged her. She just hugged her, arms tight, and pressed her cheek to the top of the blonde’s head. She didn’t say anything—just cradled her as if they were sisters, until Helena had no more tears left. Then the two women separated, and Hele wiped her eyes.

"Do you have, um… Madagascar Vanilla tea?"

Ira offered her a small smile. "I think so. It's a nice one, isn’t it?"

"It is. It makes me think of home." She watched the small woman leave the room, laid there as time ticked by. When she could feel her hands again, she crumpled the newspaper clipping.

-0-0-0-

Once Helena had plugged her phone in long enough to turn it on, she felt a wave of guilt at all her unanswered texts. Seco and Primo were now among them—she guessed Terzo had the idea to let her talk to them about what had happened at her own discretion, which she appreciated. Instead of letting them in on what had happened, she typed out a generic message.

_Everything is good. Visited T, met Ira. She’s nice. I’ll let you know how tonight goes with Copia once I’m home._

She got chills typing out his name. He was dead. He was a ghost. But her stubbornness, to her detriment, had pinned an idea in her mind. She typed out a message to Dev.

_I had to leave town for a few days. Coming back today. Meet me at work, k?_

“You’re leaving?” Terzo asked.

Helena turned to see the couple sitting at the dining room table. She had crept down from the guest room she had been put up in, hoping to leave a note and sneak out. Her chest still hurt, but she had thankfully avoided a cold from falling in the snow—Terzo had been extremely diligent to get her warm and into dry clothes as soon as he could.

“I have some things to take care of,” Helena said.

“We could send someone,” Terzo said, shaking his head. “Movers. Hell, I could go out myself with the guys. Hele, you do not want to go back there after all that.”

“It’s where I live,” she told him obstinately.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing you’d believe.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he sighed, watching her give one last cough. “Fucking stubborn. You be careful, or I will come back out there and displace you again!”

No matter what Terzo or anyone said however, Helena knew what she needed to do, and who she needed help from to do it.

-0-0-0-

When Helena entered Langager’s tavern, it was as if someone had flipped the switch on the little gremlin she had come to call her friend. He walked over, indifferent to the tables full of customers around him.

“Look who it is. You just up and leave for three days?! For three whole days, and send me a text that says, ‘meet me at work.’ Like you didn’t expect us to think you were in some kind of extreme danger! No explanation, nothing!”

She looked at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much.” Dev took a breath. He tapped a lady on the shoulder at a table, and asked her to get up. Startled, the lady did, and Dev took her chair, dragged it, got up close to Helena, stood on the chair, and looked down at her like a fucking god casting judgement.

“He likes to feel tall,” Aether explained nervously to the standing lady.

“Let me tell you something, _Hele_ ,” Dev began to snarl. “My husband and I waited around here, wondering if you had been kidnapped, if the ghost in your house had finally killed you, if you had drowned by accident, if you just decided you didn’t want to manage this pub anymore, and we sat, and we wondered, and we worried! And you have the nerve to think I don’t care?!” Aether carefully lifted him off the chair and returned it to the lady as his husband continued his rant as he was being carried and set down. “--I may be a hateful little shit, but I have a heart, and although I despise every living person on this planet, that excludes, with a little asterisk, my friends and partner in life, who I despise just a _little_ less!”

“Thanks, stompy,” Aeth whispered.

“In case you didn’t know this, I consider you my friend, Helena. Why else would I share my Fireball with you?! I love my Fireball!”

“I’m sorry,” Helena said. “I really am. I feel horrible for leaving you in the dark. And I appreciate that. But Copia’s house burned down, and I almost burned with it. I was recovering from the shock of it.”

Dev paused, and sat down across from the lady with the chair, stealing her drink. “Well, shit. Now I feel like an asshole.”

“On the house,” Aether whispered to the stunned customer. He approached Helena. “Hele, you wouldn’t happen to be talking about the old church house, would you? The—”

“Abandoned one, yes,” she sighed. “There’s something you need to know about that.” She took the two behind the bar, gave a couple people refills, and turned to them. “I need you to come to my house after work for a ritual.”

“A ritual?” Dev demanded. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Listen, I know you can help me. I don’t… expect you to, but I’m kind of begging here.” Dev held up a finger.

“You know, just because I live by the 11 Satanic Rules and own nothing but Behemoth shirts, doesn’t mean I’m the number one resource for everything 666.”

“I know. But you know more than I do about symbols and practices relating to all that stuff. If nothing else, I could use you guys with me.”

“Look,” Dev sighed. “I know a couple of things about what you’re talking about, but I don’t know shit about that old church next to you, which I know you’re going to make us investigate.” Helena looked to Arthur, who gave a helpless shrug too. Then a thought struck her. She recalled the one person who had told her he knew everything about this town, and let the other two in on it. She looked back to the two, her solution evident.

“No way.”

“Devon, he’s the only one who can really help me here!”

“Then what are we doing there?!”

“Moral support,” Aeth nodded.

“Fuck. _Fine_. What kind of ritual is this?”

“Resurrection.” She had worked out that whatever was inside that safe of Copia’s was a possession of his. If she was able to get into it, she could perform the same ritual she had before, and bring him back like she accidentally did Mary. She had no idea if it would work, but for her own sanity, she wasn’t about to entertain any possibility of a negative outcome.

“Jesus,” Aeth muttered.

“Not quite,” Dev said. “Alright. We’re going to need a couple of things I’m convinced you don’t have.” Aether cleared his throat as they watched Dev walk off to the shop next door.

“So. Who are we resurrecting?” he asked. Helena cringed.

“You know the guy I’ve been talking about these past few weeks?”

The chimes on the door of the occult shop tinkled as Devon stepped in. Bell looked up from his desk, set his book down, and grinned.

“Devon! You know, I was just thinking about you—” Stopping his tirade before it launched, Dev raised a backhand in threat, and Bell buried himself back into his book timidly. “Yes, you know where to find me.”

The short man looked around in the back, gathering a few candles and an incense package, Nag Champa Sunrise. When he was certain he had everything, he bought the materials without so much as a look to the owner, and rejoined his husband and Helena. “Let’s go get the missing link, before I decide this is stupid and bail.” 


	13. Chapter 13

The soft chords of a bass guitar could be heard from behind the door. It was a house at the end of the snowy street they had tracked down.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be the one to greet him?” Helena asked.

“Fuck off,” Dev muttered, jamming his gloved hands in his pockets. She smiled, and did the knocking. The sound of the bass stopped, and a few seconds later, the door cracked. Rain stared cautiously out at them.

“Oh god. I’m really sorry,” he said in a small voice, “Please don’t yell at me again. I’ve done some work on myself, I promise, and I’m sensitive. I really can’t hear all that again.”

“We’re not here to yell at you,” Helena assured quickly. “Dev is standing a safe distance away, see?” Ryan peeked out his door further, to see Dev standing, angrily, on the street.

“What is it?” the shy man asked, and frowned slightly. “You’re that bartender, right?”

“Yes. I remember what you said about being a history buff.” Rain looked at her sceptically, eyebrows knit.

“What about it?”

“How much do you know about the old Church of Satan?”

Rain crept a little further outside of his doorway, smoothing back his hair with just a little pride. “666 Helvete? I’m a part of the heritage society that tried to preserve it.”

Now that they had someone who could really help on their side, the four headed toward the lake on the outskirts of town.

“I… think I should be the first one to say something here,” Rain said to Dev, and Dev huffed. Aeth nudged him to make an effort, and Dev sighed.

“Proceed.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I did some work on myself. I figured out my purpose in life, as my therapist calls it. Picked up an instrument, went to therapy cause I was depressed as hell. I haven’t actually brought myself to apologize to you yet, and that was on my list, so—sorry.”

Dev walked for a while silently, until everyone present believed he wouldn’t answer at all. Then he spoke up.

“I’m sorry for flying off at you. I do that.”

“Yeah. I remember.” Rain offered a small smile, looking down shyly. “I wish I’d never gotten so jealous, you know? I miss hanging out with you.”

“Yeah. I guess I miss it too. Sometimes. When I make time to reminisce about things I never normally think about.”

Aeth watched the two of them, brimming with a grin. “Oh, this is too cute,” he whispered to Helena. Dev heard, and swatted him.

“I’m sorry about taking your restaurant, too.”

“It’s okay,” Aeth cut in. “The place had more repairs than I could count, so we’re financially in a better place now than we were. Bet you’re having fun with those.”

Rain scoffed. “Yeah. The broken grill is my favourite part. I guess I deserve it. That was a dick move.”

“Yes. But it brought us to this moment with this lovely, bullheaded woman,” Aeth said, pointing at Hele.

“That it did,” she said.

They came up on Helena’s house. Thankfully the fire hadn’t spread past Copia’s house, but the grounds were a sight to behold. Beside her own home lay a hollowed out shell of the place that used to stand there; the wood panelling had all burned away, and the stone structure of the church that used to stand there was left, windows shattered and insides charred. Light snow fell through a hole in the roof. It had been what Hele had looked out at every morning and evening. It made her heart ache to see it like this, and the burned cherry tree, branches disintegrated into the snow, almost made her want to cry again.

“Ahhh, yeah. Vowed I’d never go back into an old abandoned place where someone’s died again,” Arthur cringed, staring up at the place with his hands on his hips. “You’re lucky I’m a good mate.”

“Such a shame what happened to it,” Rain sighed. “So much history lost. At least nobody lived in the place, after they tried to build it into a house and get it out onto the market, just like your house, Helena.”

“Is anyone gonna tell him?” Dev hissed.

“He’ll find out sooner or later,” Arthur whispered back.

They entered Hele’s house first, to help clear some of the collateral damage from the other night. The blood was still caked on the wall, though it had dried brown now. Aeth cringed, noticing the rabbits, and got to work with his husband disposing of them carefully out the back. Meanwhile, though he looked more than a little disturbed, Rain silently headed over to her kitchen sink, grabbing a sponge to work on the stained wall. Helena started to scrub her floorboards beneath.

After leaving her place in better condition, Arthur gave her a quick side hug. “Sorry you had to go through all that. I’d take it all away if I could, love.”

Helena hugged the larger man back. “You’re a good friend, Aeth. You all are. I don’t think I could have faced that stuff in there again without you. I’m lucky to have you guys.”

They walked over to number 666.

“Alright, so just to be clear here,” Dev said to Helena, who had sunk to her knees to sift through the dusty snow, “We’re about to resurrect your dead neighbour boyfriend who you’ve been sleeping with for five months but never knew was dead?”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Rain asked, still wiping his hands clean from the dried blood.

“Have you considered the fact that he may not want to be resurrected, Hele?” Arthur asked gently, ignoring the other man. Helena hesitated, recalling how Copia had simply stood there in the fire, engulfed in flame and watching her as the place burned around him. He had done so willingly. The memory haunted her.

“Whatever reason he may have for wanting to succumb to a fiery… _soul vanquishing_ , is moot. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I don’t care. His punishment for lying about being fucking _dead_ the whole time is me, bringing him back to kick his ass!”

Arthur nodded, shaking some snow out of the lining of his boot. “Fair enough.”

“You do realize if his soul is vanquished, there’s little to zero chance we can bring him back with a couple candles and a book,” Dev said. Helena shook her head.

“Whatever’s locked up in the safe in his house can bring him back. I know it, I can feel it.”

“We’re with you, love,” Aeth said, putting an arm around Dev. “Still just taking a bit to wrap my head around this.”

“Excuse me?” Rain asked in a soft voice. “Hi. So, does anyone feel like filling me in?”

“Not particularly,” Dev muttered. Helena decided to bring the poor guy into the loop finally.

“The reason I need you, Rain, is I need you to identify some old markings that may be related to the history of the church. Like this.” She pulled up her parka sleeve, and showed him her symbol from the Emeritus’ band.

“The grucifix,” Rain said, coming over to examine it closer. “This was emblazoned all over this church back in the day. It’s an occult symbol for discovery and inner power. It came about in the mid 1300s, Cardinal Copia’s days—a brilliant man he was, really. I’m not a Satanist or anything, and I don’t really believe in all that stuff, but the work that man did? He brought this church to new heights, and from what I’ve read, he poured nights and days over books and research to translate old parchment from ancient times, and to better advance the breakthroughs of science. I wonder what kind of guy he must have been.” 

“He was a beautiful soul,” Helena murmured.

“How can you infer?!”

“If we do things right, you’ll get to ask him,” Helena said.

_“Pardon me?”_

“Chill, Ryan,” Dev said, rolling his eyes. “We’re just supposedly bringing a dead Cardinal back to life. What’s the big deal?”

_“Why?!”_

“Because Helena here fucked him.”

“I loved him.”

“All night, every night.” Dev smiled at her glare.

They walked in through the open doorway. The safe was still there, in the corner, intact. _Hadn’t Copia said something about it being fireproof?_ “Hey, Dev? What does the book say about the trinity?”

Dev flipped a page. “In here, since this is a Satanic text, they talk about the unholy anti-Trinity—the three destructive forces at work against the Triune Creator’s mission. The Devil, the Flesh, and the World.”

“How is that supposed to help open the bloke’s spooky box?” Aeth asked.

“I don’t know,” Dev snapped, thrusting the book to him. “Why don’t you read it?”

“Reckon I will.” Aeth took the book, and started to read the page.

“The devil… the flesh, and the world…” Helena mused. “What could that translate to numerically?”

“There was an old rumour about a curse involving the trinity here,” Rain interjected. “It was said to lead to mysteries untold.”

“Aka, whatever could open this box?” Helena asked.

“Probably.” 

“Read it,” Helena said quickly.

“Read the ancient Satanic curse. Right, what a good idea,” Aeth sighed, “’Spose you can’t do much with just words and nothing to back it up.” He began to read it out. _“Satanas, we are one out of three, trinity.”_

“Satanas,” Helena repeated, “That’s Italian for Satan.”

“Mm.”

“And the number 3. 3 numbers, or literally the number 3?” She thought hard. “Are there any chapters on cryptology or numerology in there?”Aeth flipped through.

“There is this one here that has corresponding numbers. I suppose if we take the first letter of every word, and match it up to the numbers on this inverted ram’s wheel thingie…”

Rain offered some input. “Maybe the third letter, because of the whole ‘trinity’ thing, the curse could be a scrambled up version of—”

“I’m reading you, Ry. I’ll check the page too for any hidden numbers written on a dog-ear—” 

They all heard a popping noise, and turned in surprise to find that Devon had cracked the code and opened the safe.

“What the hell was it?!” Helena marvelled.

“666,” Dev deadpanned, holding up devil horns, and rolled his eyes.

“Original, Copia,” Helena muttered, and went to open the safe door with some small amount of trepidation. What if she didn’t like what she found in here? What if it was something horrifying? She had to force herself through it. It creaked open, to reveal what she had begun to suspect.

“Are those what I think they are?” Aeth asked, raising his eyebrows.

Helena nodded grimly, grimacing. “His bones.”

They got the dusty old relics out by scooping them gently into Helena’s coat. The skull’s jaw broke off when she touched it, which gave her a start. These were the bones that belonged to the man she had come to love more than anyone before, and it felt wrong to be touching them. But she was determined; she hadn’t been scared off thus far, and she was so close.

“We have to do the same ritual I did to get rid of Mary Goore in my house,” Helena explained, taking the book and kneeling down. “If it reversed on Mary, it will on Copia, and it’ll act like a resurrection spell.” 

“May I ask what happened to Mary?” Aeth asked.

“I barely even know myself,” Hele said. “But Copia might have the answer.”

The three got together the materials needed to recreate the ritual, and once the candles and Nag Champa incense were lit in the desecrated living room, they all knelt in a circle around the piled bones. Helena began to recite.

“Sentio conspectu tuo in nobis. Vos can abscondere in tenebris. Tu exaudi multitudine. Potestis audire quod suus 'non illa vocantem.”

“In case you didn’t notice, this is a banishment spell, Hele,” Dev said, looking down at the book.

“No no, trust me,” Helena insisted, “It worked the opposite way with my own ghost in my house, since he wasn’t a spirit. He was a demonic entity.”

“So your neighbor boyfriend was a _demon_ now?!” Arthur asked, rubbing his head.

“Fascinating,” Rain whispered.

“No, just… associated with… look, I gotta keep going!” She got back into the rhythm of the chant. “Virtutem inferi clamavi assistas legiones in. Haeret in animo hic est, qui non grata. Ad quos eieci te. Angelo Copia,” she said, lighting the bones up. “Et ut corpora tangere manes hinc animi malis!” 

She waited for the surge of fire. A puff of smoke. The air to change. Anything that had happened last time she had performed this. Arthur opened one eye, and Dev looked around.

“Is he supposed to make a big entrance, or…?” Dev asked. Aeth nudged him.

“Copia?” Helena murmured, biting the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t going to cry. She was _not_ going to. She could try again. She could try tens of thousands of things. But there was no indication that the spell had done anything this time. Maybe this time, he really was gone. Maybe those flames had eaten up whatever was left of his soul. Maybe that was his way of saying goodbye.

“Hele,” Aeth sighed, rubbing her back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Rain said. “It’s too bad.” Behind them, Dev looked down, and brushed some soot off his knee before giving in. He put his wiry arms around the woman beside him.

“I’m… sorry too. I didn’t have a whole lot of faith in this whole thing. To be honest, I was pretty fucking sceptical. But part of me hoped it would work. For you.”

Helena began to respond, choking on memories of Copia easing her to sleep the last time she had spent the night with him. Then she happened to glance down at the page the book had fallen to. It had the same three symbols at the top of the page as the ones carved beneath the pentacle on the safe—the symbols she had missed.

“What is it?” Arthur asked.

“Look at this,” she mused, picking up the book again and nodding to the symbols. “What does this mean? Rain?”

“I’ve seen that in my research of the architecture here before. It’s a blood spell. The spell of Faith— I think? Only someone living can bring someone back fully with this, or something like that. Someone with strong emotional ties to the dead. It’s a blood spell, I’m pretty sure.” Helena scanned further down the page, and found them labelled. Yes. The symbol of the eye, the symbol of the ear, and the straight line, and the title of blood ritual. _Thankfully it didn’t specify how much blood she had to give._ She looked to the ground, where the flames licking from the eye sockets of Copia’s skull were just beginning to dwindle. Seizing the opportunity in a flash, she read the words aloud. “I am all eyes. I am all ears. I am the wall… and I’m watching you fall.” With that, she bit her finger with a gasp, and let one drop of her blood fall onto the fire.

_Seconds ticked by. Seconds turned into minute._

They all felt the floor begin to vibrate. The four got up fast, moving to the center of the house. Charred bits of ceiling fell around them, and they moved to stand directly at the mouth of the hallway. That’s when Helena saw it.

The portrait of Cardinal Copia at the end of the hall was still intact, untouched by the fire, and the white eye was glowing. She walked toward it herself, as the burned out paintings lining the walls beside her shook and fell to the floor. Everything around her seemed to phase out and blur, her eyes focused only on his painted ones. Copia’s portrait began to vibrate as well, and the eye grew brighter and brighter, illuminating the entire household in an ethereal glow, until it too fell to the ground. She looked down, and saw what was carefully preserved on the wall behind it. It was a tapestry, depicting a blonde woman in 13th century clothing. Helena looked closer. It resembled her to a stunning degree.

Shocking her out of her entrancement, she heard a familiar term of endearment rasped out behind her.

“Cara mia.”


	14. Chapter 14

Helena’s breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned to see her Copia standing, in full black Cardinal’s vestments. She felt that her legs could give out at any second, but she was rooted to the spot.

“The ritual you used for Mary would not work on me, my dear. To bring one back is a little different when it does not coming from a place of bitter resentment,” Copia said softly. After a second of staring in awe, Helena found her voice.

“What makes you think I don’t resent you after all that?” Copia seemed lost.

“Why would you? You simply brought me back from my fiery grave, no?”

“Fiery grave, my ass! You were dead before!” Copia’s eyes widened as he realized she knew his entire history, and Arthur turned to Dev.

_“Here we go.”_

“How did…?” Copia fiddled with the diamond grucifix beneath his cassock, and held his gloved hands up in defence. “Alrighty then. Allow me to explain.”

“Wait. Wait a minute. Just—first, let me just…” She drew in a shaky breath, putting her hands up to him. Her nerves reminded her of the shock they had just taken, seeing the man she thought was gone for good in front of her. Copia walked forward, offering her a small smile.

“Yes. Feel me, cara. Make certain I am here, I am real.” She lifted her hand to his cheek, and to her relief, she felt those fuzzy sideburns. He brought a hand up to place over hers on his face, and she choked back a sob.

“I… I don’t know what…”

“Please. Shh, ragazza mia. Let me tell you, I will tell you everything, hm?” He took her on his arm back to the living room. That’s when he noticed the other three others. “Eh. Hello.” He turned to Helena. “Guests of yours?”

“Technically yours. We’re in your house.”

“What used to be my house,” Copia lamented. “I would invite you all to sit down like a good host, but my furniture is, eh… for lack of a better word, pretty fucked.” Helena snorted.

“We can stand,” Rain breathed, still plastered against the wall with wide eyes. Copia nodded, and turned back to the woman beside him.

“My Helena. This is very hard for me to articulate, but I will try. I... had lingered here since my death many years ago, unable to leave my beloved work here at the church. When it was turned into a house, I stuck around. Although to others it appeared as first an empty newly built house, then a dilapidated one as it went through the years officially uninhabited, it was not empty. I have never left. I decided eventually to live in it as a 21st century man—or ghost, I suppose you could call me. I caught up with the times in my music taste, my fashion. Unfortunately not my technological knowledge or décor, but I am an old soul, you know this. Still, to everybody else, I was dead. I died of the plague, you see.” He held up his hands. “Don’t worry though, you cannot catch the plague from a ghost.”

“A ghost can’t eat you out either, but there you were,” Helena huffed. Copia emitted a nervous flurry of laughter.

“That is true. Allow me to explain further. I was a very powerful member of the clergy back in my day. I knew things, secrets, that no one else did. Dark secrets, dark even for the Satanic congregation. My passion for arcane knowledge outweighed anything else, and I learned things a mortal man was not supposed to know. Unnatural things. Things about death… things about what came after death.”

“What comes after death?” Helena asked, “What happens to people?” Copia searched her eyes. They seemed hopeful, and he knew why. 

“I know... you wish to know what came of your parents. I, unfortunately cannot be the one to answer that for you. Hele, they are at rest in your mind, and that is enough.” He cast his eyes down as her face fell in understanding, and he continued. “I realized my mortality after contracting the disease, and found myself left with a deep melancholy. I had so much more to learn, and my gift of life given by the Old One was to be snatched so insignificantly? I knew I had to find a way around it—and I knew that I could. I used the dark knowledge I had discovered in the libraries to my advantage—something that could be done once I had died, to preserve my soul in a certain way. It was a way that many would consider wicked. A way I considered fascinating.” Helena looked over at the safe, and back to Copia in enthralment. “As I suffered through my last days of the horrible sickness, I carved the symbols needed in the spell of Faith onto my safe, and left the only other person I knew would appreciate my intentions the instructions. Her name was Elizabeth Imperator. She also knew what I knew about immortality. Whispers tell me she found a way to carry on through the years too, and she has been a friend to my family for many years. I have never sought out my family... Comunque— the disease took me quickly after that, within seven days. But I was ahead of it. Using the same spell you just did, my servant was able to call upon my spirit, and with the knowledge I had, I could materialize in a carnal form even after death—though, not to the extent of being truly alive. I was a ghost, but I was corporeal when I chose to be. You could touch me, I could touch you. But I _chose_ who I would appear to.”

“And that’s why everyone else just saw an old, abandoned building here,” Helena filled in. “Nobody knew who you were!”

“Yes. When I was brought back the first time all those years ago by Imperator, her blood was not enough to fully resurrect my body, as we did not share the bond that you and I do. So, I became only a spirit, who could trick one into feeling my flesh as real beneath their fingertips. Mourning my losses at first, I would cry sometimes in the night, for what good is immortality if I am bound to a house with nobody around it?”

_The wailing from that local ghost story. It had been Copia all along._

“I stopped the crying eventually, and accepted what I had become. I still performed my rituals every year, in private. Nobody could see me. But, I am here now today in full form. I am reborn, in a way, because the blood used came from a bond strong enough to do so.” 

“What I want to know is, how did you get into heavy metal if you’re from the 1300s?!” Helena asked. “Didn’t they listen to back in your time, like lutes and shit?”

“Ehh, Gregorian chants more like. Sometimes lute, but pan flute was more popular. Rock packed more of a punch when it came along! Got my ass wobbling a little better than somebody picking at a harp and wailing like a harpy.” Hele laughed, and Copia waved a hand. “Anyway. When you came along, you saw me in my practiced manifestation, a state in limbo between the realm of the living and dead I had been in for centuries.”

“So you chose to appear to me, and only me?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you manifest for me?” Her question was an honest one; not remorseful in any way, just curious. “Why bother letting me see you at all, if you knew what you were?” 

Copia gestured behind him. “The tapestry you saw behind my portrait? It has been there since the very days this church was built and decorated by the ancient laymen, disciples of the Dark Lord. I was told back during my life during a commune that the golden-haired woman depicted in woven silk was to be my one and only. Of course, I went my entire life disbelieving this. You had not come along to me, and I, being the awkward sort when it came to flirtation, lost hope. Who would fall in love with a man who preferred the company of books? But, then you appeared six months ago to me, and I could not resist. You had finally come to me—my fated golden haired beauty.”

“Prophecy?” Helena whispered. Her mind was spinning—this was like something out of a historical drama, not her boring old nearly thirty-something life.

“At first, I thought as you did. I did not want to become involved with you, afraid of what I might have to do to you to keep you with me if I wanted to. Whatever I would have to do to tear the veil between us, the living and the dead. I wanted to keep you safe from such a fate, and I could not trust myself to do so if I truly did fall for you. But another matter complicated things—the matter of your home, and the spirit who lingered there as well.”

Helena nodded. “Mary.”

“Mary Goore, yes. When he came here with his family in the late 1990s, I watched him closely. Yes, he was a tad more _reactive_ than most, but he was not bad. He even offered to help me pick my cherries one day, as you did when you met me. That is what got me thinking of him, and his fall from himself.” Copia sighed. “Satan saves, but he did not save Mary. Mary’s case was an unfortunate one. He made a deal with a demon, a crueller one summoned from ill experience.”

“Mammon,” Helena nodded.

“Yes. The demon of Greed. He wanted success in his musical ventures. The demon was a trickster, you see, and not only took Mary’s soul, but twisted it, possessed him so the two were stuck in the poor boy’s body. Mary died the day Mammon took his vessel... it was two spirits in one host, if you will. Then the murders happened. He was made to do it.” Helena exhaled. 

“Mary wasn’t as violent as the stories made him out to be, was he?”

“Before the night of the deal, no. He was just a boy, going through growing pains. It is sad, really.”

“…What did you do to him on the night of the fire?”

“I banished Mammon back to Hell.”

“How?”

“Because I’m fucking smart as shit and powerful,” he muttered. “Sure, I was an awkward son of a bitch, but the man you saw flaunting this ass in white pants while gardening was a feared Cardinal back in the day! I took care of Mammon with a single snap. You see, he made a fatal mistake. My power over him is unparalleled under the roof of the church. I was able to rip his soul apart with a single snap once he came in here.”

“Jesus. No wonder you were so good in bed. With that kind of power? It’s a miracle you didn’t split me in half.” Arthur snorted behind her, reminding her that the three were still there.

“I’m not a god,” Copia murmured, kicking a piece of rubble that looked like it used to be a record. “I am not like the fucking Hulk in bed.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Hele said. Copia blushed. “So… if you were so powerful, why did you let Mammon burn your house down? You must have been able to catch him before he set fire, before he sent you back to hell, or wherever you went.”

Copia looked down sheepishly. “I realize now that it was heartless of me, but… I believed it to be a blessing in disguise. I had fallen so far for you that there was no way I could have left of my own accord at that point. I simply would not have been able to bring myself to, I could not think of a way. But, I could not continue living with you as a spirit in a form created by magic—it could not have lasted forever, and I knew this beneath my own desires. A relationship built on a secret is one built on a lie, after all. Like I said, I did not trust myself not to persuade you to join me in death.” Helena got chills at the idea of joining Copia in that way. If he had told her himself, maybe that night she was to go over for dinner, would she have done it? “—The fire presented itself as a way for both of us to move on... and a punishment I believed I deserved as well.”

“Why?”

“I could have helped Mary. I could have guided him under my wing, he could have learned true Satanic powers, not amateur rituals like the one that got him killed. I felt responsible for his death. I didn’t even say anything when they covered up his body in the lake... it wasn’t right how he was laid to rest.”

“You couldn’t have known he’d try and summon something,” Helena told him softly. “Besides, his diary that I found said a blonde woman gave him the book he used to invoke the demon. At least it wasn’t you.”

The Cardinal nodded, staring off. “Anyway. You had to come and resurrect me in true corporeal form, destroying my punishment,” Copia chastised playfully, and he looked down. “Like I told you, the ritual you performed was powerful enough to bring all of me back, not just as a manifested spirit. Blood rituals are the most powerful sort because they are sacrificial, and yours packed a _hell of a wallop_.” He punctuated this with a silly little punch to the air.

“I only used a drop,” Helena said.

“Unbeknownst to all the human sacrifices we had back in the day, a drop is all it takes.” 

“Human--?!” 

“They were quite willing. Anyway, now that I know that you love me enough to do something like this…” He reached forward to take her hand. “I could never bear to leave you again.”

“True form,” Helena repeated. “So, that means you’ll live another lifetime?”

“It means I will resume the one I lost,” Copia explained. “According to the resurrection spell you cast, I will live out my days now as I did before my untimely death. It means cara, that I may live out my days with you.” She wrapped her arms around him, and they remained there for what felt like an eternity.

“So, does this kind of make me a witch?” she giggled. Copia smiled, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You brought a man back from the dead, una volta una maestà poi esponendo osso. I would say so.” Helena grinned, and Copia ghosted his lips over hers. Devon brought them out of the moment as he regarded the scene before him.

“Well. Theistic Satanism is knocking at my door, and it looks like I’m gonna answer.”

-0-0-0-

Dev and Arthur said goodbye and that they would see her the next day, and Rain, in awe of the history he had witnessed, took a quick picture of Copia (for personal use only, he assured). Helena barely got in the door of her house before she felt Copia’s hands on her hips from behind.

“I want you,” he whispered. She could hear the desperation in his voice, and she would be lying if she was to say she didn’t need this. It turned her on too, to see him in these vestments. Like their own little religious roleplay.

“Upstairs,” she breathed, and he caught her around the waist, pulling her back to him.

“No,” he growled in her ear, “Right here.” His voice sent shivers through her. His words lingered in her ears from earlier, what he had said about how powerful he was. She supposed his unholy attire was giving the usual docile man a power trip, which she wasn’t about to complain about. He kissed down her neck like he needed her body to survive, and when he got to her collarbone, he sank his teeth in, so hard she knew it would bruise. _Fuck, that’s hot._

Helena turned to kiss Copia, and he lowered them both down to the floor. His hands were on her top, bunching it up as he kissed up her stomach, up between her breasts, to her shoulders, and down her arms… over the grucifix tattoo. She helped him take her top off, and her pants soon came with it.

“You will receive your Cardinal, hm?” he murmurs. “You will take me inside you so beautifully.” Helena moaned. “That’s it, cara. Continue. I so love to hear you beg for me.” He kissed her neck where he had marked her. “Who has made you feel this way, hm?”

“You.”

“How badly do you crave my cock inside of you?”

“Fuck, that’s— Copia, I need it.” He reached down to pull her panties aside, and with the other hand, he reached into his cassock. By the motions of his arm, she knew he was touching himself, jerking his fist up his cock. “Did you go commando back in your days at the church?” she asked. 

“The Satanic church celebrates freedom and lust,” he teased. “Undergarments go against both of those.”

She reached forward to take over for him, and his pupils dilated even more as her hand closed around his hot length. He was swollen and throbbing, already so hard at the prospect of fucking her like this. His hips began to push into her hand, and he swore under his breath, reaching down to spread her legs roughly. He dragged his swollen cockhead against her folds, spreading her slick over her clit with it. Helena sighed, wrapping her legs around him. “Please fuck me,” she murmured, and he finally buried himself inside of her, inch by inch as she mewled. “Copia,” she gasped, “Want you so bad. I want you to take me so hard.”

“I fucking will. I will--” A groan cut off his words, and he pulled his hips back to thrust deep into her. A few thrusts later, he gave a frustrated growl, and pulled out. In a haze, Helena opened her eyes at the disturbance, but Copia flipped her over onto her stomach, tugging her up by her hair to whisper in her ear. “You squeeze around me like the perfect little slut, cara. I love to feel your pussy, tight around me, milking me. I need you as you need me, eh?” He gives a low grunt. “I want to _fill_ you desperately, until you cry from the pleasure of it.”

His hips were snapping fast now, and Helena could barely catch her breath. Her fingers splayed out over the hardwood, able to grasp at nothing as he released her hair, held her by the back of the neck and pounded into her. “How are you doing?” he whispered.

“Go—od, really good,” she groaned in staccato rhythm with his thrusts, “Just... just get it a little to the...” Her eyes rolled back as he changed angles. “Yeah. Yeah, oh god, right there.”

“I know you want to finish,” he rasped. “I can feel your body pushing back into me, taking me so good, fucking yourself back on my hard cock so you can cum.”

“Make me cum Copia, please!”

“You see what you do to me? What you have done, eh? I am so hard for you.”

“I’m fucking close. I’m fucking close, are you close?”

“Yes—”

“I’m gonna cum inside.” He was out of breath, feverish. “Cum for me. Cum all over your Cardinal’s cock, get me wet, Hele.” Coming the closest she ever had to screaming while getting fucked, Helena felt her orgasm hit. She gave one last circular grind back against Copia as her pleasure rocked through her. His hips stuttered, gasp catching in his throat like a choked out grunt. Seconds later, she felt his seed burst inside of her, and she worked herself back to help him through it. Copia shuddered behind her, fingers sunken firmly into the meat of her ass. He gave one last shaky groan with a couple pushes into her, then went limp, slumping forward.

Helena felt like a pancake, spread out on the floor and sizzling from the sex they’d just had. _What a stupid analogy,_ she thought to herself, smiling, _Don’t you dare say that out loud._

“I feel like a pancake,” she betrayed herself by giggling. Copia pulled out of the blonde, and collapsed on his back next to her, cock softening against his thigh.

“How does the syrup feel, dripping out from between your legs?”

“OH, FUCK OFF!” She laughed uncontrollably, rolling onto him, “You’re a cheeseball. A dumb Satanic cheeseball.” He grinned too, the two of them shaking with laughter as she threw her arm over his chest. “Oh, shit,” she sighed, still panting. “Ugh. You know we’re still on my floor. Literally fucked right in front of my door, that’s a new one.”

“At least we didn’t fuck outside, on your doorstep.”

Helena buried her face into him. “Put that on the list of kinky things to do one day.”

“It would feel good, no? It would feel good on my ass, the welcome mat out there. Yes. It’s scratchy, it would scratch my ass just right if you rode me hard enough.”

“You kinky shit, I’m talking about the fact that people could see, not my scratchy doormat!”

“Nobody would see us but the rabbits,” Copia assured, putting his own arm around her, “But I am not encouraging the idea.” Helena’s smile faded at the mention of rabbits, and what she had found behind her couch that night. She quickly locked the memory away in a box, and focused on only her lover’s scent.

“You’re sweaty,” she whispered.

“You are too!” he protested, pink tinging his cheeks, and she batted him playfully.

“I’m joking. Except not really.”

“You want to wash me? Is that what you’re saying? You want to wash my...” Copia gave a little wriggle. “My butt?” 

“Oh my—”

“If we’re going to live together, we should wash together, no? Since I lived in a technically abandoned house, I can’t attest to the cost of running water, but I assume it would save money if we shared.”

“God, your abandoned house. That sounds so weird.” Helena shook her head. “ _We’re_ weird.”

Copia pulled her back down over top of him, settling his hands on her bare back. “And what’s wrong with being a little weird, eh?” He leaned up to tentatively bump that upturned nose against hers, the mousy brown and grey mustache tickling her upper lip. He made her feel good. More than good. With him, she finally felt like more than a one night’s stand. Helena felt that familiar spread of warmth return—it was a warmth she felt whenever she thought of the man beneath her, whenever she was with him and thought of the days to come together.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I almost didn’t get to tell you this.”

“Yes?”

She bumped her nose gently against Copia’s. “I love you too.”


	15. Chapter 15

The table had been set in black and white. The black décor was made a little brighter by tasteful ribbons of purple tied around various objects in the house, though the flickering candelabras and soft soundtrack of Candlemass in the background made it evident that this was not your average suburban baby shower. Then again, when it came to the Emeritus family nothing was ever average, and Terzo and Ira’s taste was no exception.

Nihil, on the loose from the hospital again, stood by the refreshments table with his oxygen tank, working his way through the bowl of hard candies. Special was on the balcony with Sara, in a heated discussion about a theory he had about Ghostbusters. Three firm knocks came from the front door of the condo suite, where Seco waited with a redhead on one arm and a brunette on the other. 

“Ay!” Terzo grinned, inviting him in. “Who are the beauties you have brought along this time, fratello?”

“You remember Laverne and Diana,” Seco introduced, unable to hide his smirk. “From Vegas?” Walking past his stunned brother, the bald man headed over to get himself and his lady friends a drink. Primo poked his head out from the kitchen, spotting the man in the immaculate suit from behind.

“Secondo, you are here! Come and help me with the pana cottas! I have the arthritis, you know.”

“You don’t have shit,” Seco muttered, but turned to Diana and Laverne. “I will be back, pets. You will wait for Papa, mm?” They cooed, nodding, and he pecked them each on the cheek.

“You are no longer Papa,” Terzo reminded him in a sing-song voice. “That would be me.”

“I was not referring to my former band title, little brother. I was referring to what they like to call me in bed.” Rendering Terzo speechless for a second time that day, Seco brushed past him to go help Primo cook. Ira was chatting with a couple of her own friends over by the grand piano in their Stockholm home, hand on her stomach. Terzo came over to give her a kiss, and Ira smiled up at him.

“You got the cake, right?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, taking her hand. “The custom Addams Family cake you asked for. Do I truly remind you of Gomez?”

“I mean it as a compliment.”

“And I take it as such,” he smiled, and swooped in to kiss his wife again. _“Cara mia.”_

“Mon cher.”

“Any more Werther’s?” Nihil called, and Terzo pointed a finger at him.

“No more sweets for you, Father. You remember last time, eh? They will call me at two in the morning to ask me why an old man is zipping up and down the halls of the hospital, and I will have no one to blame but myself for not watching you.” Nihil looked legitimately dejected, but he wasn’t completely out of luck. He had stashed some in his pocket. Another knock at the door sounded, and Terzo’s eyes lit up. “That must be them.”

Outside the door, Copia shifted from foot to foot, dressed in an unbuttoned grey dress shirt and casual black pants. For someone who was already socially anxious back in his life in the 1300s, to now be thrust into a social setting like this after hundreds of years of antisocial existence was now causing him to descend into a bit of a state.

Helena squeezed Copia’s hand. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No no,” he assured, wiping his palms. “You are my _uno vero_. If I am to be yours, I want your friends to like me.”

Helena smiled. “From what I’ve told them, they already do.”

“I want to meet them. There are lots of people here I want to meet, in fact.”

“Okay. Just remember, they’re really nice people.”

“Yes. From what you’ve told me about them, I very much look forward to acquainting myself. I hope they will think I’m normal.”

“None of them are “normal.” Primo would rather talk to his plants than people, so he’s a lot like you. Special’s fucking weird, and we love him for it. Terzo’s... Terzo. Seriously. You’ll fit right in.”

Copia kissed her knuckles, and Helena noticed the nervous tics beginning to come out, of brushing at his sideburns. “It’s just that… I haven’t been around other people in a very, very long while, you know.”

“You remembered how to charm me,” Helena pointed out.

“Yes, but you are different.”

“That’s true. I was on a tapestry,” she smirked, not ready to let that one go yet.

“Yes. I mean—well, yeah, that is true. And I am not about to go in there and tell your ex boyfriend and his wife that I will tickle their taints. That’s my go to line!”

“Watch out. Terzo’d probably be into it.”

Helena was a little nervous herself, as well. Not about seeing her old friends after months apart of course, but nervous about what she had told her ex. She had called Terzo a couple of days after the resurrection, and told him Copia was still alive. Yes, the Copia from the newspaper clipping. The Cardinal from the 1300s. It had taken some time to convince him, plus a blurrily snapped candid of Copia cooking an omelette in his underwear, but he had eventually come to believe her. After all, he had born witness to the vengeful spirit haunting her house just last year, which meant he could believe anything at this point.

“Alright. Do I look presentable?” the former ghost asked Hele.

A smile tugged at Helena’s lips. “You look like you.”

“That doesn’t fucking help.” Before Copia could second guess himself any longer, the door opened. Terzo stood there, dressed in a tight black long sleeve and grey sweat pants. His eyes seemed to linger on Copia curiously, as if expecting his skin to peel off any minute. He was the only person who knew his secret other than Helena at this party. Interrupting the uncomfortable eye contact between the two men, the blonde spoke.

“You look radiant,” Helena teased.

“Funny, that’s what everyone has been telling my wife as of late,” Terzo winked at her, giving her a greeting kiss on the cheek. “You do know how to make a man feel special.” He whirled around to the shorter man. “Which I am sure _you_ can attest to, Copia.” He looked Copia up and down, eyes widening dramatically. “Or should I say, Cardinal?” Copia nearly choked as he turned to Helena.

“You told him?”

She bit her lip. “More like he told me.”

Terzo cut in again before Copia could question that, lowering his voice to a menacing hiss. “Well. What does one say to a walking corpse, hm? I must say, you look considerably handsome for a corpse… though still a corpse. A fact you did not see fit to tell the woman you were courting? Bad manners to say the least.” The black haired man was glaring like death at him, and Helena suddenly worried about bringing Copia here. She never thought Terzo would act like this… until his face brightened. “I jest, I jest. I am sorry, I’m a bit of an asshole.”

“Understatement,” Helena whispered, exhaling in relief.

“Ahh, I have been _dying_ to meet you since Hele first mentioned your name—forgive the pun—and it was the first of many mentions, mio buon uomo.” He shook Copia’s hand heartily, then leaned into the blonde and whispered a little too loudly: “He’s richly endowed, no? I can tell.”

“Ah,” Copia cut in, blushing hard. “Thank you. Very nice to meet you, Mr. Emeritus.”

“Mister Emeritus?” Terzo wiggled his eyebrows, growling playfully. “The rate you’re going, you might as well call me daddy.”

“Okay, quit trying to steal my boyfriend and introduce him to your _pregnant wife_ , you bisexual disaster,” Helena groaned, shoving her ex. “Jesus Christ, you could cut through the tension with a knife!” Terzo grinned, and lead them over, weaving through the crowd of people in their living room with grace and finesse. Chris Isaak played over the speakers now—Wicked Games, and Helena thought of their first date. This could be their song. She’d like that.

“My treasure, this is Angelo Copia. You know Helena.”

“Hi.” Ira shook Copia’s hand, and smiled at Helena. The two nodded to one another. Ever since their talk that day, however small it was, any sort of awkwardness between the two women had dissipated.

“God, you have no idea how nice it is to hang out with you guys,” Helena said to her. “Out in Svavel, I have two guy friends—three now, I guess—but all the women there are middle aged busybodies who glare at me and whisper when I walk by.”

“Want me to hex them?” Ira asked, raising an eyebrow. Copia coughed as Helena grinned.

“Oh, would you?!”

Sara came over to give Helena a big hug, and decided that she approved of Copia as well when he kissed her hand in greeting. Silas was the one DJing, but he gave Hele an appreciative nod. Nihil came over, politely shaking Helena’s hand with both of his.

“Ah, Helena. It has been years. Who is this?” Helena introduced Nihil to Copia, and Nihil shook his hand too. “Here,” the elderly man smiled, and dropped two Werther’s into Copia’s hand before wandering back off. Copia raised his eyebrows. Terzo excused himself to go mingle some more, and Tobbe came in from the terrace, anxious to meet Copia.

“It’s so good to finally meet you! Do you want anything, man? Want some punch? An h’orderve, you want a—you want a little mary on a cross? Heh. I got plenty of pot out there, or how about a little cake or something? Maybe a corner piece, I think there’s still some left with icing... I’m fucking starving...” He looked around. Helena looked at him in amusement.

“Sativa today?”

Tobbe blushed. Copia smiled politely. “I, eh... I’m good with these for now, thanks.” He held up his gifted Werther’s.

“Mhm, mhm. So how long have you been in Svavel?” he asked Copia. “You know, I went to a place in the States for band business once that was a little like it. Lots of cowboys. I’m the manager for the Emeritus’ band, so I had to deal with these people who were supposed to be backup singers, but they were super Christian, you know the type. They come up to me like, ‘howdy! What are we gonna sing again?’ and it became this whole thing—”

“Nobody wants to hear the cowboy story, Special,” Helena sighed. The man had obviously had one too many glasses of champagne or the stash he had brought was more of an _uplifter_ than a sedative, as his level of chatter rarely climbed this high.

“Yes. Fair. Hey, is it true your house is haunted?”

“Not any longer,” Copia informed him.

“Oh, that’s a drag. Yeah. I really wanted to come visit and meet a ghost. Maybe play some music with it, jam a little. You know, boogie woogie goat rock?” The funky Swede started playing air guitar and shaking his hips.

“I enjoy boogie woogie goat rock. Metal, and all that,” Copia smiled, nodding to the pins on Tobbe’s jacket. “King Diamond?”

“Oh my _god_ , you’re a King Diamond fan?”

“He is a good servant of the Olde One.” Copia caught himself. “One would… assume, from his rockin’ music!”

Helena snaked off while the two were discussing their favourite rock bands, and went to visit Primo and Seco in the kitchen.

“What are you making this time?” she asked, sniffing around. Primo turned, handing her a piece of what they were making. She popped it in her mouth, and moaned. “Man, you guys are good.”

“How are things out in Brimstone?” Seco asked, referring to the English translation of the town’s name.

“They’ve been aptly hellish,” Helena grinned, hopping up on the counter. “But things are starting to look up now. Copia’s moving in for good. We fucked on my doormat. You know. All the good stuff.”

“Ah,” Primo smiled, bringing her into a hug and patting her back, “That is the news I like to hear.”

“He is a snappy dresser,” Seco nodded, glancing out from the kitchen. “For that alone, he has my blessing.”

“You should see him in his white suit.”

“That good?”

“Well-tailored.”

Seco smirked. “You’re a lucky woman.” Helena grabbed another piece when he wasn’t looking, and hopped down.

“I just want to thank you guys. For helping me with the house when I was settling in.”

“We only drove you mad with the whole Ouija board fiasco,” Primo grumbled.

“No. It showed me it wasn’t all in my head,” she assured. “Now that Mary’s gone, you guys can come visit anytime, stress-free.”

“We will take you up on that offer,” Seco nodded. “It is a peaceful little slice of heaven out there. Does Copia cook?”

“He bakes.”

“Ah. The perfect complement to our speciality,” Seco nodded, adding some finishing garnish to the dishes. “Bene. It is done, Primo. Now go ahead, pass this off as your artistry.”

“I would never,” Primo huffed, but a smirk crept up.

They rejoined the party, and Helena slipped back to Copia’s side. It was strange, she noticed. Copia kept getting this look in his eye whenever he glanced at any of the Emeritus family. Her hand slipped into his, breaking his concentrated gaze on old Nihil Emeritus, and he stroked it as Terzo tapped a spoon against a glass.

“We have an announcement to make!”

“Twins?” Silas joked.

“Like from The Shining?” Tobbe added.

“Hush, both of you,” Terzo muttered, and put on hand behind his back, standing on a chair regally (and precariously.) “Seco, Primo. Come here.” The two joined him, and Terzo put his hands on their shoulders. “The _zios_ of our future baby. Our future daughter.” Everyone got loud at that, and Terzo nodded. “Yes. Everyone give it up for the next generation.” He held up a finger during the applause. “But—we have business! My dear?”

Ira came forward to join him, and looked to Helena and Copia. “We’d like you two to be the godparents.” Helena’s eyes widened as she came over to hug her, a hug under much happier circumstances than last time. Copia wrapped his arms around Helena from behind as well.

“Godparents, cara,” he whispered. “I have only ever been a parent to my rats, back in the day!” 

“It’s basically like being the cool aunt and uncle,” she replied, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I can be cool, eh?” Copia said, turning Hele to face him. “I am cool.”

“Oh, you’re very cool.”

“Yeah?” His hands descended to tuck into her back pockets.

“The coolest.”

“I think that this calls for celebration,” Nihil announced, standing with some difficulty. Terzo groaned, Seco looked pained, and Primo excused himself to the washroom. The others seemed confused, until Nihil grinned wide. “To the family photo album!”

“I should have burned the thing when I had the chance,” Terzo muttered to Seco, who nodded. Those two remained firmly rooted by the fireplace as Nihil giddily grabbed the album, which was surprisingly not hidden, from Terzo’s bookshelf.

Helena gathered around behind him with Copia, and their friends did as well.

“Ah,” Nihil smiled, dropping a knobby finger onto the first page. It was a photo of him when he was young and had shaggy black hair. He was holding a baby in his lap. “Look at how cute he was.”

“Which of your sons is that?” Ira asked, tilting her head. Nihil kept smiling.

“I have no idea.”

“It was me,” Terzo huffed, approaching. “You see how cute I am? I was the cutest.”

“It was obviously me,” Seco sniffed. “Look at my fabulous bone structure.”

“Ah yes, you are right,” Terzo nodded. “My head does not look so much like an egg.” As the brothers bickered, Nihil flipped the page. He flipped through photos of the boys growing up, of Seco when he had hair (he had dyed it an awful blonde, and Hele would never let him forget it now) and of Terzo performing flamboyantly in a high school talent show. There was even one in there of Primo from what looked like the 80s in front of the Disney World sign in a big Goofy sweater, which Hele swore was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen. Then as Nihil reached one page, his smile faded a little bit, but didn’t disappear all the way. Helena recognized the look on his face. It was a melancholy wistfulness, something she had felt when she thought Copia was gone. She snuggled closer to Copia, and he welcomed her. “Is that her?” Terzo asked, having taken a peek.

“Elizabeth Imperator,” Nihil nodded, almost to himself. Helena’s heartbeat picked up. _What name did he just say?_ The photo in the album was of Nihil, still young, dancing with a beautiful blonde. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and from what Hele could tell from the faded photograph, she had on a gorgeous green dress. In the photo, Nihil stared at her like she was his whole world. That couldn’t be the same Elizabeth Imperator that had brought Copia’s spirit back all those years ago. The Imperator who had become a friend to Copia’s _family?_

“What happened to her, sir?” Tobbe asked.

“She left,” Seco interrupted, making eye contact with his father. “And that was that.”

Guilt etched into his expression from the bewitching blonde woman he had lost to an affair of his, Nihil proceeded. Next came the older photos... sepia, then black and white, then the sort that were blurry because the photographs back then took too long to capture. Helena’s curiosity only built. She began to recognize some of the landscapes in the photos. Oddly, she felt Copia’s grip on her arm tighten as the pages turned and turned. 

Then came the page that confirmed her suspicions. It was the same photo of the painting from the newspaper clipping. The black and white one.

Terzo did a double take, glancing up at Helena in alarm. He had never taken notice of this page before, it was too far into the album and they never usually made it this far when reminiscing. The two shared a look, and the youngest Emeritus gathered closer around the album.

“Father,” Terzo asked, steadying his wavering voice. “Who is that?” Nihil pulled the painting out to read the scrawled writing on the back of it, shrugging noncommittally.

“Angelo Emeritus. Your great, great, great, great, a lot more greats, grandfather. He worked at that old Church in Svavel, I think. You remember, I told you we had relatives in that town...? Ah. I wonder what happened to him. Probably the damned plague...”

Helena was frozen to the spot as Copia squeezed her hand. She turned to him, eyes searching, and he leaned in. “Copia was a chosen name, my love.” She exhaled, feeling the shock ebb away as she realized that nothing should really surprise her anymore. Still, she had a question. 

"Who did you have children with?" Copia sighed. 

"There was... a woman, who appeared to me as your likeness on the tapestry. I did not tell you, but... she seduced me one night. I thought it was a dream, but I learned of the... family I had sired later. I wanted her, but I did not know what she was. I was desperate." 

"Who was she?" 

"A succubus, summoned by Imperator. She wanted a family to attach herself to. She used me to get one, without having to do any of the work, so to speak. She worked her way down the Emeritus bloodline, and stayed with your ex-partner's father, it would seem. Until whatever happened between them, happened." 

"The Emeritus'... Terzo," Helena whispered, "Has the blood of a succubus?" 

"As does his little one on the way. Our godchild. Perhaps I may teach her one day as I was taught. Though that is something I feel we should omit from our congratulations." Copia stroked the grucifix on her arm, kissing her cheek as they looked out at the friends and family gathered from their past. “It appears every little thing in life—or death—happens for a reason, mm?” She took his hand, sinking back into the arms of her love, her Satanic Cardinal, her next door neighbor.

He was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for coming along with me on this journey! It was such a pleasure to write this, and I hope you all enjoyed Helena, the first time I've ever used an OC. I'll likely do vignette fics in this universe in the future, either set before or after this story. So this isn't the end of Helena and Copia, and the brothers three! 
> 
> As always, come see me on tumblr at kissthegoghuleh if you'd like to yell at me. XO

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me @kissthegoghuleh on tumblr!


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